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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25875412">The Weight of the World</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/keyboardclicks/pseuds/keyboardclicks'>keyboardclicks</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anxiety Disorder, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Canon-Typical Racism, Canon-Typical Violence, Childhood Memories, F/M, Good Karma Lone Wanderer (Fallout), Kindness Is Integral, Lone Wanderer is Autistic, Medical Procedures, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protectiveness, Rescue Missions, Separation Anxiety, Slavery, Slow Burn, Trauma, Unsuccessful Stealth Missions</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 09:07:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>81,742</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25875412</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/keyboardclicks/pseuds/keyboardclicks</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>(New Summary)</p><p>The Capital Wasteland is as blistering hot as it is cold and unfeeling, filled to the brim with people and creatures who want nothing more than to spill the blood of anyone they come across.  Leah is none of those things; she is a terrified, lonely girl banished from the only world she's ever known and thrust into a bright, terrifying future.</p><p>But the Wasteland has good things, too, far apart as they may be.  Most important of all, it has her father.  The one person she could always go to for guidance and understanding.  The day she runs from Vault 101 may be the scariest day of her life, but Leah has always trusted following in her father's footsteps.  She'll trust that now, and she'll find him.  There really isn't any other choice.</p><p>A Very Good Karma LW Story.</p><p>(non-major character tags will change with each chapter update because I don't want to clog up the tags for characters who aren't very plot relevant)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Charon (Fallout)/Female Lone Wanderer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>75</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>140</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Beneath The Sugar Popped Sunshine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/4635852">Above the Deep</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/s0ymilk/pseuds/s0ymilk">s0ymilk</a>.
        </li>

    </ul><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Vault 101 was far from perfect.  But at least it was safe.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>By the time she reached Megaton’s imposingly large, rusted metal walls, Leah’s feet and shins were already furious at the torment through which they had lately suffered. Unaccustomed to things such as<em> dirt</em> an<em>d uneven ground</em>, running had proved a difficult enough task that not even three yards out of the gate she fell, face first, and tumbled head over heels down the small hill on which the Vault 101 entrance was located. </p><p>It hurt.</p><p>It also resulted in her meager armful of belongings-(a 10mm handgun, a box of ammo, a holotape, a teddy bear, and a handful of stimpaks)-to scatter across the dusty ground and mingle with the rocks.  She’d picked them up in a flurry, stuffed what she could into the pockets of her newly acquired Tunnel Snakes jacket, and continued running as if her life depended on it.  </p><p>Because it kind of did.</p><p>By the time she had found herself on a stretch of broken road and gutted houses that advertised itself as the town of Springdale, she was sobbing so hard that she couldn’t tell if the pain in her chest was from that or from a lack of exercise endurance.  (She had never been good at running; there was never a need for it.  When she ran it was either to hide behind an adult who could protect her from bullies, or into the arms of her father as he waited to give her a hug.  Neither situation ever took much time to resolve itself.)  </p><p>A strange floating robot the size of a soccer ball had guided her towards civilization, unintentional as it was.  Its pre-war patriotic tunes intrigued the sheltered vault girl and she followed at a distance before coming across a large billboard, its original vault-tec message painted over with giant red letters spelling out MEGATON, and an arrow pointing off to one direction.  The robot sailed on in the opposite direction, unconcerned with her plight.</p><p>The sun had reached the zenith of its daily arc by the time the advertised city came into view.  By the time she heard the rough, automated voice of a protectron, it had begun to fall.</p><p>And so she found herself before the gates of Megaton, with little to her name but anxiety, hope, and a higher than average level of medical knowledge.</p><p><em>“Howdy, partner,</em>” greeted the protectron that guarded the gates of rusty corrugated metal.  Leah beamed at it, feeling her first small rush of joy since the day began at the small bit of familiarity she had with the robot.  She, Dad, and Jonas had been trying for years to fix up the husk of a very similar model that had been kept down at the reactor level for who knew how long.  They’d wanted to get it up and running to help with radroach infestations, but if one part wasn’t broken another was missing completely, and so it still sat down there, unfinished and waiting.</p><p>Her stomach lurched a bit when she thought about how that once hopeful project was little more than a dream now.</p><p>“Hello,” she said kindly to the metal man.  It turned towards her and offered another, <em>“Howdy, partner,”</em> before resuming its scan of the horizon.  <em>“Thirsty?”</em> it asked to no one in particular. <em> “Try Moriarty’s!”</em></p><p>Leah wondered who Moriarty was, and why his house was the place to go if one was thirsty.  Admittedly, she was pretty parched, probably from all the running and crying she had been doing since she woke up,and most of it in the sun.  This seemed worth investigating.  With another polite smile aimed at the faceless robot, she said, “I think I will, thank you!”</p><p>Once past the rusty metal doors that made an ungodly <em>screeeeeeech</em> as they lifted, the noise rattling around Leah’s skull in a familiarly unpleasant way, she took in the sight of the city before her.  Layers of metal sheeting made up walkways and supported buildings of all manner of shapes and sizes, but which were all uniform in their rusty brown and faded silver colors.  Just as she was about to take in what appeared to be a very large nuclear bomb directly in the middle of town, a man approached her.  He had dark skin, a beard, and wore a hat that Leah had only ever seen in old pre-war picture books about cowboys.  (To be fair, the rest of his clothing fit the picture pretty well, too.)</p><p>“Hi there,” he said in a low, friendly voice.  “Never seen you around here before, stranger.  What’s your name?”</p><p>How strange it was to meet someone so totally, completely new.  Leah didn’t think she’d ever introduced herself to someone in her entire life.</p><p>“My name’s Leah, sir,” she said politely, pulling the sentence structure from old books where this sort of thing happened regularly.  It seemed like pre-war people were meeting new people all the time, which she felt had to be just exhausting.  “It’s nice to meet you.”</p><p>The man’s smile was as warm as his voice, and something fluttered inside Leah to know that her first out-of-vault interaction had gone well.  “Well, it’s nice to see some people still have their manners.  I’m Lucas Simms, the mayor here in Megaton.  I’m also the sheriff, judge, and whatever else we all decide needs done.  Don’t cause any trouble, and I think we’ll get along just fine while you’re here.”</p><p>“I don’t wanna cause any trouble,” she assured.  “Actually, maybe you can help me? I’m looking for my dad.  I think he came this way?”  Megaton seemed to be the closest actual town to the vault, so it was a safe bet.  “Have you seen him?</p><p>Simms looked her over.  “Was he wearing a blue jumpsuit, like yours?”</p><p>“Yeah!  A vault suit.”</p><p>“Right, that’s what it is.  Haven’t seen one of those in quite some time… you must have just gotten out, huh?  Hard to forget clothes like that.  Yep, he came through here not too long ago.”</p><p>“Really?!”  Her heart leapt!  It danced!  It sang!  It did all sorts of impossible to describe gymnastics! </p><p>“Afraid he’s already gone, though,” Simms added quickly.  “Wasn’t here more than an hour, and he headed out with barely a goodbye.”</p><p>Her heart teetered and tottered until it crashed down from its position on the high beam, and all at once Leah was very nearly ready to cry again.  (She’d been doing it all day, after all; the muscles for it were well warmed up.)  </p><p>“Do you- where did he go?” she asked through a tight throat.</p><p>“Afraid I don’t know, I’m sorry.”</p><p>The vault girl deflated.  Her left hand squeezed tight around the old teddy bear she’d grabbed in a panic as Amata rushed her out of her quarters.  Her last remaining toy from childhood, Leah had never quite been able to give it up, and now she clung to it in a last desperate bid for comfort and familiarity.  (His name was Teddy, because Leah had been an extremely creative child.)</p><p>“I can tell you who he talked to, though,” the sheriff offered.  “Colin Moriarty.  He owns the saloon up on the second level of town,” and here he pointed to the large sign painted with bright, white letters advertising as such.  (Leah briefly felt foolish about her first assumption from the protectron’s advertisement.)  “If you wanna go talk to him, be my guest.  Just know that he’s not your friend no matter how friendly he tries to act, and anything you want is gonna cost you some caps.”</p><p>“Caps?”</p><p>To this, Simms explained that out in the wastes the caps off of Nuka Cola bottles were used as currency.  When she said she didn’t have any, he suggested a few people he could talk to around town and Leah did all she could to keep the names straight.  Moira, who ran Craterside Supply, was always looking for someone to help her with some odd jobs.  Walter, up at the Water Treatment Plant, might need help with a few small tasks since he was getting a bit on in years.  Confessor Cromwell, leader of the Church of Atom, might be willing to spare a few caps if she explained her situation. But stay away from Moriarty if she needed money; that much was impressed upon her quite vehemently by the good sheriff who, seeing he had done all he could do, tipped his hat and returned to his patrol.</p><p>After all was said and done she still ended up at the saloon, it having been the only building Simms had actually pointed out and therefore the one she could get to without bumbling around looking like a lost child. The place was dim and grimy, far removed from the sterile canteen of the vault.  Despite the early hour, people sat scattered across bar stools and in chairs tucked against walls.  A redheaded woman leaned against the wall beside the bar, smoking.  A man stood behind the counter fiddling with a radio.</p><p>It was the man who gave Leah pause.</p><p>He was mostly bald, with patches of dark hair growing in random places across his head.  The skull itself was missing sections of skin, and he had no nose to speak of.  When a hand came up to his face to scratch an itch she was frightened to see that his arms, hands, and fingers were in much the same state, exposed cords of muscle flexing and moving like the man they were attached to was a living, breathing scientific model.  He glanced over when the door shut behind her, then quickly looked back to the radio.</p><p>Instinctively, Leah’s first reaction to this was panic; clearly something was wrong with this man.  Clearly he was sick or injured or dying, and as a doctor’s daughter her immediate urge was to help.  But nobody else in the bar seemed to be paying his condition any mind, and the man himself didn’t seem the least bit concerned.  He just fiddled away with the radio, giving it a few hard smacks for good measure.</p><p>The woman beside the bar was staring at Leah in the way that told her she was doing something abnormal and people thought she was strange, which was an unfortunately familiar sensation that brought with it a tightening of her stomach.  Reminding herself what she was there for, and quickly gauging what the socially correct thing was to do, she stepped up to the bar and plopped herself onto one of the open stools.</p><p>“Welcome to Moriarty’s,” said the man behind the counter.  Leah was shocked but not at all surprised to hear that his voice was just as rough and grating in sound as his skin was in appearance.  “What’ll it be?”</p><p>Five seconds was far too long a time to take to understand the question and what it meant, but it was exactly how long the vaultee took to do so.</p><p>“Oh!” she squeaked.  “Oh I’m sorry I- I don’t need- I don’t need anything.  I just.  Um.  Sheriff Simms told me I could talk to Colin Moriarty about something?  Are you him, sir?”</p><p>While the man raised what remained of his eyebrows in shock, the woman barked out a deep laugh that made blood rush to Leah’s cheeks as he instantly realized she’d said something stupid.</p><p>“I’m sorry-” she stuttered. “I’m- I’ve never been here before I don’t really know who anyone is-”</p><p>“It’s fine,” said the man.  “It’s okay.  No, I’m not him.  Colin’s in the back.  I’ll go get him for you.”</p><p>And then he was gone, disappeared through a metal door behind the bar before Leah could stutter out another apology.  Radio static and deep sighs were the only things to break up the general silence of the room.  Still flushed and flustered, she looked over to the woman leaning against the wall and, leaning as close as she could without falling from the stool, asked, “Is he okay..?”</p><p>“Whadya mean?” the woman replied.  She had a hand on her hip and a scandalously low neckline that would have made Leah blush if she wasn’t already so red in the face.</p><p>“I mean he’s all…”  And here she made a hand gesture she hoped got her point across well enough to make up for the lack of a proper vocabulary.  “His hair’s gone and his skin is all… peeling?  And I can see his muscle?  My dad’s a doctor, I know that’s not normal.”</p><p>Around her cigarette, the smell of which was beginning to make Leah vaguely sick, the woman’s lips curled into a confused smile.  “Where are you from that you haven’t ever seen a ghoul before, honey?”</p><p>Before either the question <em>Ghoul?</em> or the answer <em>Vault 101</em>, could pass her lips, the metal door through which the man had previously gone opened up again, and exited both him and, presumably, Colin Moriarty.  She noticed that the first man-the ghoul, the woman had said-now stood with tight shoulders and a curved back, as if trying to curl up on himself as he made his way back behind the counter.</p><p>“Colin Moriarty, at your service,” said the new man, confirming her suspicions as he approached her.  He had silver hair and a beard, and his accent was strange; melodic and lilting, like a cousin of the accent her father had.  “What can I do for you?”</p><p>She hopped from the stool with a smile.  “Hello; Sheriff Simms told me I could come talk to you about my dad?  He said he came here not too long ago.”</p><p>Moriarty looked at her with a slight frown, examining her.  “Well, I see a lot of people in here, darling; I won’t know who your father was just by lookin’ atcha.”</p><p>She opened her mouth to describe him, to give his name, but was cut off by Colin’s continuation of, “But I’d know the color of a vault suit anywhere, and your daddy was wearing one just like it, wasn’t he?”</p><p>Colin smiled, and in her gut Leah felt a vague sense of unease.  </p><p>“Come sit with me,” he said, walking past the bar and into the small, unoccupied side room the building possessed.  “We’ve got things to talk about.”</p><p>When each member of the forthcoming conversation had settled into a worn, torn, mysteriously stained armchair, Colin said, “So, you’re James’ little girl, are you?”</p><p>“Yes!  Yes, that’s my father!  So he was here?  Where did he go?  Is he alright?  Did he say-”</p><p>“Not so fast, lassie, not so fast.  Let me get a good look at you first.  My, my, but it’s been an age since I saw you last. Just a wee babe you were, all swaddled in your daddy’s arms.  And now look at you!  All grown up into a lovely young woman!”</p><p>Leah blinked, her brain slightly short circuiting at the implications of that statement.  “Did… did you used to live in the vault?” she asked, supposing that if the rule “nobody ever leaves the vault” had been broken twice in that day alone, it wasn’t impossible to think it had been broken before.</p><p>“Me?” Colin laughed, “Cooped up in that shithole?  No, no no no, never.  I met you just once, just for a little while when you were practically a newborn.  You and your daddy and his brotherhood friend stayed right here in my saloon, and you cried so much it drove out half my customers.  This was before he got you both into that vault, of course.”</p><p>Now she was positively sparking, neural pathways struggling to form in the face of this contradiction to what she had always known to be true.  She said, “But I was born in the vault.”</p><p>And Moriarty asked, with a sardonic little smile, “Is that what he told you?”</p><p>“It’s the truth.”</p><p>She was quickly growing to dislike the sound of Moriarty’s laughter, and this round of it did nothing to improve her opinion.  “Aw, poor dear.  I know that drivel they spout to you- ‘All hail the overseer!  We’re born in the vault and we die in the vault!’  Well, you’ve seen today alone that that’s not true, haven’t you?”</p><p>It seemed to Leah that the whole world was suddenly moving much too fast.  She felt trapped in a lonely slow motion as she processed what she was being told and what it meant.</p><p>But it didn’t really change anything, did it?</p><p>Did it?</p><p>“Ah well,” Colin shrugged.  “Life goes on.  Daddy lied, and now you’re here followin’ after him.”</p><p>“Where did he go?”  Her voice was small, even to her ears.  She was afraid of the answer, afraid of knowledge, afraid that any more change in her life would be more than she could handle.  But at the same time, she just needed to find him.  Things always made more sense when he was around; he’d explain everything and the world would make sense again.</p><p>“Funny thing that,” said Colin, leaning back in his chair and looking at the ceiling.  A hand came up to stroke his beard.  “I can’t seem to remember where he said he was goin’.  I’m sure he told me, but I just can’t remember the name of the place.  Maybe if you had a little something to jog my memory…”</p><p>Leah frowned.  “What do you…”</p><p>“A hundred caps.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“A hundred caps, and I’ll tell you everything he told me.”</p><p>Her jaw flapped open and shut a few times, stare incredulous as she waited for him to laugh again and admit his joke.  But that never came.</p><p>“I don’t have… I don’t have a hundred caps.” <em> I don’t have any caps.  I’ve been out of the vault for all of three hours.</em></p><p>Moriarty shrugged, slapping his knees before rising to his feet.  “Well, then I suppose we’re done talking.  Come find me again if you change your mind.”</p><p>Before Leah could assert that this wasn’t a matter of changing her mind, it was one of <em>having been out in the world for not even half a day and having no idea how one even earned money</em>, the man had disappeared up to the second floor of the building.</p><p>It was like the world had crashed down upon her, which felt like a vaguely insensitive comparison to make given she was 98% sure an atomic bomb lay in the middle of the town but it was the most accurate description.  Left by her father, driven out by her vault, and now denied by the one person who could tell her where her only family had gone because she, fresh from the vault, had no money.  This was beyond unfair, it was cruel.  It was Butch stealing her sweet roll at her 10th birthday party.  It was the Overseer deeming it fit to kill Jonas and her because her father had decided to leave.  It was cruel, selfish, unnecessary, and completely outside her scope of understanding.</p><p>And so she cried, alone in the corner of a strange bar in a strange town with strange people all around her.  She could feel them staring, their gazes burning through her clothes and into her skin like the bites of a radroach.  The urge to curl in on herself and disappear, to hide, to flee from sight was overwhelming, but where could she go?  </p><p>After what was likely minutes but honestly could have been hours, a low, warm voice asked, “Honey, are you alright?”</p><p>Leah looked up.  It was the redheaded woman, now absent from her post against the wall of the bar.  She looked down at her with a critical eye, but didn’t seem cruel.</p><p>“I-” she hiccuped.  “I’m sorry- I’m sorry for bothering you, I- I’ll go-”</p><p>“You don’t need to apologize to me,” the woman assured.  “You can sit here and cry to your heart’s content.  But Colin can get testy if he thinks someone’s driving away business, and a girl crying her eyes out like that will do the trick.  Just wanna make sure he doesn’t see reason to get pissed and be even more of an ass than usual.”</p><p>Vulgarities spilled from the woman’s lips so easily that Leah forgot to be surprised by them.  Her only experience thus-far with cussing outside of books had been the one time her father banged his toe so hard on a table leg that he’d let out a curse so sharp it made Leah jump, and the clumsy attempts made by the Tunnel Snakes to seem rebellious and impressive when really they just sounded childish.  This woman’s cursing didn’t interrupt the flow of her speech, and in a way was almost pretty.</p><p>Leah sniffled, wiped her nose on her sleeve, and dried her tears with the arm of the teddy bear she was still clutching to her chest.  The embarrassment of having it was vastly overridden by the need for comfort.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” the vaultee said again, but felt better when the woman offered her a wry smile.</p><p>“I’m Nova,” she said, blessedly not bringing up the stuffed animal.  “Leah, right?  What brings you to Megaton?”</p><p>She let herself be guided back over to the bar and sat down.  The bartender had moved on from beating at the old radio and was now cleaning a glass absently with an unfortunately dirty looking cloth.  Leah told Nova, and by extension the bartender whose name turned out to be Gob, the story of her day, and by some miracle they listened.  Once or twice, when a memory became too much for her again, she burst back into tears and muffled them in the front of her stuffed animal while Nova patted her awkwardly on the arm and Gob shot nervous glances back at Moriarty’s door.  By the time she finished her throat was sore, her eyes dry, and her sleeve covered in an unfortunate layer of dried snot.</p><p>“Wish we could help,” Nova sighed, lighting a new cigarette and pausing in her sentiment to inhale the smoke.  “Saw your dad come through here-remember him, Gob?-but he and Colin talked in the back room and I didn’t hear any of what they said.”</p><p>“I remember,” Gob nodded.  He winced when Leah glanced over at him, recoiling when she reached over to pick up the glass of tap water Nova had convinced him to give her free of charge.  (It tasted odd, and left a strange tingling sensation on her tongue, but Leah chose to ignore this.)  “He didn’t talk to me, though.  Sorry.”</p><p>Honestly, she was just happy to have been allowed to talk.  How often had she heard from adults that she talked too much?  From her peers that nobody cared what she had to say?  “It’s okay.  Thank you for being so nice to me.  I was always told that people outside of the vault are cruel and mean, but…”</p><p>“Oh, there’s plenty of sickos,” Nova assured.  “Raiders, slavers, mercs…  I mean, we’ve got it pretty good in Megaton, but there’s assholes everywhere you go.”</p><p>“Nova!”  The slap of Moriarty’s hand against the wall made both Leah and Gob flinch, but Nova seemed mostly unaffected.  He stood at the top of the staircase with a scowl so heavy it cast a shadow over his features.  “You don’t get paid to stand around!  Get to work!”</p><p>“Barely anyone’s come in, Colin,” she said evenly.  “Just Leo, Lucy, and Walter, and you know none of them want my services.”</p><p>“Well I better not see you gabbin’ away when someone worthwhile comes by!” he retorted, then stomped off.</p><p>Nova blew a deep breath out her nose, then returned her gaze to Leah’s with a slight smile.  “See?  Assholes everywhere.  Sorry Colin’s the one you’ve gotta deal with, but he’s better than some people I’ve met.”  She glanced over at Gob, whose hands were visibly shaking as he rearranged the meager stock behind the bar.  “And worse than a lot of others.”</p><p>“I’m sure I’ll figure something out,” Leah assured, completely convinced by her own words for no other reason than because she had to be.  “Really, though… thank you.  I was so scared of being out here I honestly thought I might have a heart attack and die of fright.”</p><p>“Wouldn’t be the first person,” Nova acknowledged, and even though she couldn’t quite tell whether that was a joke or not Leah chose to laugh.  Then she turned her gaze to Gob, who again shied away.</p><p>“I’m sorry if I was staring at you earlier,” she said.  “I didn’t mean to be rude.  I just… I’ve never seen someone… what did you call it, Nova?  A ghoul?”</p><p>“Yeah, that’s right.”</p><p>“It’s okay,” Gob assured, and for a brief second he managed to catch her eye.  “I’m used to getting looked at funny.  It doesn’t bother me anymore.”</p><p>“Gobbie’s the only ghoul here in Megaton, but there’s more out there.  Most people don’t like them too much because of how they look, which is bullshit but I guess humans have always been pretty good at hating different people.”</p><p>“Like I said, I’ve gotten used to it.”</p><p>Before she could ask one of the dozens of questions she had already formed about Gob and ghouls in general, the door to the bar clambered open and shut and Leah turned to watch three men walk in. One, a tan man with a severe face, starting eyeing Nova up immediately.</p><p>“Well, duty calls,” she sighed with a smile, snubbing out her smoke under her heel.  “You take care of yourself, honey. It’s a mean wasteland out there and you’ll get gobbled up if you’re not too careful.”</p><p>And she was gone, leaving Leah and Gob in the awkward silence that can only be made by two anxious people who barely know each other.</p><p>“I should go,” Leah quickly admitted, hopping down from the stool.  “Thanks for the water, Gob.”</p><p>“Be careful out there,” the ghoul advised.  “You’re alright for a smoothskin, I’d hate to never see you again.”</p><p>As worrying as that comment was, it made something in Leah’s heart do a small-(non gymnastics-routine worthy)-dance.  What a thing, to have your company enjoyed by others.</p><p>“I will.  I’m just… not sure what I should do now.”</p><p>“I think you should get some sleep,” he advised. “You’ve had a long day and no offense but you kind of look like shit.”  And he directed Leah to another building at the back of town, a common house where she could rest her head free of charge.  “It’s not much, basically just some walls and a roof and some beds, but it’s better than the dirt.”</p><p>Her emotional brain screamed at her that she couldn’t rest, that every hour spent asleep was another hour farther away her father got. If she waited too long she’d never catch up to him no matter what she did.  But her logical brain countered that sleep was important, and passing out in the middle of a deserted wasteland was absolutely not what she needed to do in order to track down her dad.</p><p>She smiled at Gob, gave him a goodbye and a wave, and set out once again.</p><p>And well, he certainly hadn’t been lying; the common house wasn’t much at all.  But at least there were beds.  Most with crumpled, dirty sheets and suspiciously stained mattresses, some even without bed frames and most without pillows, but beds nonetheless.  Sleeping figures were scattered amongst the room, dozing or outright snoring into the open air.  Despite the few holes which dotted the roof and walls of the building, allowing shreds of evening sunlight to gain entry, Leah found the place to be remarkably dark.  This made finding an unoccupied, un-apparently claimed resting place a challenge, but she eventually managed.  It was hardly a bed, but Leah was quickly finding she was much too exhausted to care.  The day, such as it had been, had completely and utterly drained her.  Even lacking pillows, blankets, and the comfortingly ever-present noises that echoed down every vault corridor, she knew it would take very little time for her to fall asleep.  </p><p>Not wanting to be jabbed by either a handgun or stimpaks as she slept, Leah moved to settle her inventory against the floor but stopped after a moment when her fingers gripped around a familiar item of metal and plastic.</p><p>A holotape. <em> The</em> holotape- Jonas’ last gift to her.  (She swallowed down bile at the memory of his face, glassy-eyed with a quickly drying bloodstain on the ground.  Nearly choked it back up at the memory of those guards she had killed in self defense.)  A few taps and turns and adjustments of dials on her pip-boy was all it took to move the data from her tape’s magnetic strip to her wearable little computer.  A quick glance around confirmed the unconsciousness of her roommates, but fearing retribution she turned the volume down as low as she possibly could and pressed her ear against one of the speakers to listen.</p><p>She wept silently to hear her father’s voice, and to hear Jonas’ off to the side.  Most bitterly of all, she wept to hear him say, <em>“I don’t want you to follow me.” </em> </p><p>The weight of that settled in her chest, behind her heart.  An impossible instruction, now, given by what may as well have been a ghost.  There was no going back, no more safety within walls of lead-lined steel and ‘permanently’ locked doors.  Leah had never been a rebellious child,  in fact she had spent most of her life happily by her father’s side, preparing herself to one day take his position as Vault Doctor.  </p><p>(<em>My little shadow</em>, he called her.)</p><p>(<em>Daddy’s girl</em>, chided her peers.)</p><p>She could not say for certain what her choice would have been had the Overseer not seen fit to kill her for her father’s transgressions.  Perhaps she would have stayed in the vault, believing that one day her father would come back for her.  Perhaps she would have left in search of him anyway.  It didn’t matter; the choice had been made for her.  She had to disobey his wishes.  Whatever it took out in this giant wasteland of a world, she was going to find him.</p><p>After, of course, some much needed rest.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. You Lived Large 'Till The Day They Caught You</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In Megaton, Leah has everything she could want: food, water, a roof over her head, even some friends to pass the days with.  What more could she look for?<br/>Why would she want to leave?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Two and a half weeks since she had first left the vault, Leah found herself becoming a regular fixture in everyday Megaton life.  She was still an oddity, this little vault girl in a bright blue jumpsuit and black leather jacket, with golden-copper hair that reached down to her lower back.  She was the one who watched with too-curious eyes and an overabundance of questions, clinging to her barely-formed knowledge of social etiquette and desperately avoiding stepping on anyone’s toes.  <em>A bit odd</em>, many people agreed,<em> but harmless.</em></p><p>She worked jobs for Moira, helped Walter up at the plant when he needed it, and generally did whatever she could about town to make herself useful.  None of it paid much, but it was enough to get her fed on a daily basis.  After a little bit of coaxing from the kind, eccentric owner of Craterside Supply, she even agreed to a few short excursions outside the town gates.   In exchange for help with her book, Moira provided some light armor for the outside of Leah’s suit, a pack for her gear, and a holster for her gun.  What caps the jobs brought in let her begin to accumulate a small savings that she tucked into a pouch at the bottom of her bag.  </p><p>As a bonus, she learned how to disarm a frag mine in 1.2 seconds flat and didn’t even lose a limb in the process. </p><p>As an extra bonus, Moira had held her hair back while she suffered the unfortunate consequences of severe radiation poisoning and mentally vowed<em> no, never again, not in a hundred million years.</em></p><p>As embarrassingly long as it took to save up the requested 100 caps, Moriarty did at least reveal to Leah that her father had mentioned his intention of heading to Galaxy News Radio, saying something about meeting up with a friend.  He even marked the location of the plaza on her pip-boy’s map, for what that was worth.</p><p>When a week had passed and Leah had still made no move to follow, Nova asked why.  She shrugged with a shy, almost shameful look on her face and offered, “I’d never survive out there on my own.  Ask Moira- I can barely shoot a gun.”</p><p>That wasn’t exactly true.  She’d killed a number of bloatflies, radroaches, and molerats since beginning to venture out at Moira’s behest; once she’d even downed a radscorpion, though it ate up most of her ammo.  What really kept her there was the thought that, somewhere outside the safe walls of Megaton, there were people who wanted to hurt her.  Not just vicious animals that, on survival instinct, mauled whatever they saw as a potential food source, but actual people.  Animals were vicious, but humans were clever.</p><p>Also they had guns.</p><p>“If you say so,” the woman sighed.  “But trust me when I say that if you’ve got something you gotta do, go out and do it.  Megaton’s fine enough but it’s the kinda place where you can get a little too comfortable, and before you know it you’ll be asking where the hell all those years went and what you’ve got to show for it.”</p><p>Since she’d started to have actual money, much of Leah’s free time had begun to be spent at Moriarty’s Saloon.  She never drank liquor, though; only Nuka Cola and water.  She came in the early afternoon-before the place began to draw a crowd-got her order, and curled up in the corner seat over in the bar’s side room to pass a few hours in peace.</p><p>Sometimes she had a book.  Sometimes she people-watched.</p><p>As much as she stood out, something the other residents of Megaton didn’t seem to realize about Leah was how talented she was at making you forget that she was there.  She could sink into the background, a sweet and unassuming looking young woman with a book and a bottle of water, eyes too wide behind the frames of her glasses to be considered any kind of threat.</p><p>Drunks at the bar talking to no one, hushed conversations in the common house, pieces of gossip shared between friends while walking around down.  She learned about Leo Stahl’s chem habit, Billy Creel’s questionable past, and Manya’s annoyance with her husband’s enclave obsession. She learned that Moriarty beat Gob, and kept he and Nova in his debt so they couldn’t run away.  That Simms hated the man’s guts but didn’t think he could risk throwing him out, and that he thought himself a coward for it.</p><p>Leah didn’t think Simms was a coward, but she thought Moriarty might be the devil.</p><p>The stranger who walked into the saloon caught Leah’s attention the moment he stepped over the threshold.  He wore a grey pre-war suit, clean and pressed, which was an oddity in and of itself.  His glasses had a dark tint to them, and his black hat cast a shadow over his sharp nose and round jaw.  He stepped up to the bar, bought a bottle of purified water, and caught Leah in the middle of staring when he turned to take a seat in the bar’s alcove.  She opened her mouth to apologize, but the mystery man sat down in the armchair opposite her before she could start.</p><p>“I don’t believe I recognize you,” he said, his voice smooth and low like running water over rocks.  “Allow me to introduce myself: I am Mister Burke.  And who do I have the pleasure of sitting with today, my dear girl?”</p><p>The ‘dear girl’ in question sat with raised eyebrows and a slightly parted mouth before her thoughts returned to her and she managed a polite, “My name is Leah, sir.”</p><p>“Leah,” he said, and she distinctly disliked the sound of her name on his lips.  “How wonderful to meet you, and you’ve come to me at such an opportune time, as well.  Just when I’d all but given up hope.”</p><p>And without any further questioning he told her of his job, of his mission and his interests.  He talked about purity and degenerates, of the betterment of the world and a burgeoning landscape.  He said rude, hateful things about the town and its residents that Leah was too shy to speak up against even if she disagreed with them all.</p><p>“This is where you come in, my dear.  I have with me a wonderfully simple little device- a Fusion Pulse Charge created just for this purpose.  And you, my dear, with no stake in the fate of this putrid town or its festering residents, are just the person for the job.  Simply rig this into the bomb for which this unfortunate settlement is named, and I promise you will be handsomely rewarded.”</p><p>Leah felt sick, and she’d taken some radaway earlier that day so she knew it wasn’t the radiation.  Her heart had fallen into her stomach while her brain, not wanting to accept the vile reality of what was being proposed, struggled violently against this new information.  <em>This isn’t real</em>, it screamed at her.  <em>This can’t be real.</em></p><p>“You want me to-”  She looked around, leaned in close over the dirty metal table separating them, and continued in a whisper, “You want me to<em> blow up the town</em>?!”</p><p>“I’m asking you to help me wipe this little…” he waved his hand dismissively, “…problem off of the map.  The world will be better for it, truly- what’s a few less useless, stagnating individuals mucking up the works?”</p><p>He reached forward and took Leah’s hand, and it was a hard fight against her instincts to not pull away.  Gently, he pressed the strange little device into her palm, patting it like one would a small animal before pulling his hand away.  Leah stared down at it, then up at Mister Burke’s waiting face.  His smile was slick and oily; she had the distinct fear that if he removed his glasses there would be nothing behind them- only empty blackness where the windows to his soul should be.</p><p>Her knee bumped against the table when she shot up from her seat, spilling both her half-drunk Nuka Cola and Burke’s mostly finished water.  They teetered against gravity for a moment before each succumbing to its inevitable pull, and Leah was out the door before she could hear the glass shatter.</p><p>The strange little device clunked heavily against the floor where it had fallen from her lap.</p><p>Mister Burke, by now used to disappointment, only sighed and picked the box back up, stowing it safely away in his pocket.</p><p>“Ghoul, clean this up,” he snapped, pointing to the sticky cola now running towards his shoes on the floor.  “And get me another water.”</p><p>Lucas Simms spent the majority of his day patrolling the city, speaking with its residents, and generally checking up on everyone’s morale.  Leah had learned his route well in her two and a half weeks and, having become slightly more accustomed in that time to both uneven ground and the act of running, found him quickly.</p><p>Unfortunately, her lung capacity had not yet had time to increase, and so as she approached him the only words she could say were a jumbled collection of breathless syllables.</p><p>“Slow down, Leah,” the sheriff instructed.  “Breathe first, then tell me what’s got you all worked up.”</p><p>Before Leah could breathe, she had to first sputter, cough, and pant.  The third step of that list was taking far too long to finish and so she made the executive decision to press on.</p><p>“A man in- I was in the saloon and there- a man named- named Burke-” </p><p>“I told you to slow down,” Simms sighed.  “What about Burke?  He just got back into town last night, what’s going on?”</p><p>“He wanted- he asked me to-”  How did she even explain this without sound like a crazy person?  She’d been so dead set on getting help that she didn’t even stop to consider the idea that Simms would take Burke’s word over hers.  And why wouldn’t he?  Burke was, apparently, a longstanding citizen of the town, or at least a frequent visitor.  She was just a strange little vault girl who was prone to saying the wrong thing and crying when the world became cruel.  She should have brought the device itself as proof but she’d just been so panicked-</p><p>“Sheriff,” she pleaded, “<em>Sheriff</em> he has this… this little- what did he call it?  A fusion… pulse… something…  He wanted me to put it on the bomb- he says it’s still live he asked me to put it on the bomb and blow up the town I-”</p><p>Simms stared hard at her for a few seconds, his expression morphing from curiosity to shock to fury that Leah foolishly believed was directed at her.  The fear dissipated, though, when he patted her on the shoulder, a look of grim resolve now schooling his features.</p><p>“You did a good thing by tellin’ me.  I’ve been suspectin’ Burke of something for a long while now, but I could never pin anything on him.  Christ, I can’t believe it’s even worse than I thought.”  One hand rubbed his tired, weather-worn face.  “Alright.  Get your gun out and stay behind me, but be careful where you’re pointing and keep your finger off the trigger unless things get ugly.  I’m not one to trust shaky hands on a weapon but you’re the only backup I’ve got right now; let’s move.”</p><p>Burk was still sat in his chair, idly sipping clear water from a dirty glass when Simms burst through the saloon door, weapon drawn and waiting.  He raised an eyebrow at the dramatic appearance, but otherwise seemed completely unbothered.</p><p>“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Sheriff?”</p><p>“The jig is up, Burke.  You’re coming with me until I can figure out what to do with you.”</p><p>“Excuse me?  You’re putting me under arrest?  May I ask what for?”</p><p>“You know damn well what for- the bomb!  You’re trying to blow it up!”</p><p>Gob, the only other person in the bar at that particular moment, froze in place and snapped to immediate attention at this revelation.  He caught Leah’s eyes with his own wide, fearful ones, and she gave a shaky nod before returning her attention to keeping her 10mm pointed at Burke’s head.</p><p>“I assure you I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he replied flippantly.  It unnerved Leah how unconcerned he seemed at having two weapons aimed directly at him.  “Surely someone’s been spreading rumors- I’ll make sure to deal with the issue personally, so we can all sleep well at night.”</p><p>“No, you’re coming with me,” Simms asserted.  “At least until I can figure out what the hell is going on.”</p><p>“I’m afraid I can’t oblige, Sheriff.  I have business to attend to, and-”</p><p>“I won’t ask you again.”  Leah had never heard the Sheriff’s voice so cold.  “Stand up, and come with me.”</p><p>Burke’s greasy, overly-charming smile melted away into scowl.  “Why do you<em> knuckle draggers</em> always insist on doing things the hard way?!  Fine, fine… lead the way, Sheriff, lead the way.”</p><p>What happened then seemed to Leah like it happened both in slow motion, and all at once.  Burke stood from his seat and began to let himself be lead out by Simms.  But then he stopped, and from the inside of his coat pulled a pistol and aimed it straight at the Sheriff’s retreating head, his finger resting on the trigger.  </p><p>Two gunshots rang out in near synchronicity.  There were screams, curses, the breaking of glass.  Burke’s body crumpled to the floor after Leah’s bullet tore through his occipital, parietal, and frontal lobes, along with his hat.  Simms fell to the floor, as well, clutching his neck as thick blood began oozing from between his fingertips.</p><p>Leah fell to her knees on autopilot, dropping her still smoking 10mm and guiding Simms to lay on his back without a word.  She tossed away his hat and pulled his hand from the injury even as he scrabbled to keep his blood inside his body.</p><p>“Toss me some vodka,” she said to Gob, who was cowering behind the counter.  He peaked up from behind it just enough so his eyes met hers.</p><p>“Wh-”</p><p>
  <em>“Give me the vodka!”</em>
</p><p>He did.  Leah pulled the cork out with her teeth and, without explanation or apology, poured it first onto her hands and then onto the gaping bullet hole which hard torn through the sheriff’s neck.  He cried out in pain, cussing up a storm the likes of which Leah had never heard and stomping his feet angrily on the metal flooring.</p><p>“Go get the doctor, Gob!”</p><p>That order he didn’t question, and was out the door before Leah could blink.</p><p>It wasn’t a second after he’d bolted that people starting pouring in.  Some saw the bodies, screamed, and ran back out. Most began forming a crowd much too close for Leah’s comfort as she tried to focus on the task at hand.  Nova, half dressed and pushing her way through the crowd after descending the stairs two at a time, asked, “What the hell happened?!”</p><p>“Burke shot Simms.”</p><p>She looked from the writhing, still alive body to the stiff, unmoving dead one.  “Who shot Burke?”</p><p>Extremely unpleasant feelings made themselves at home in Leah’s esophagus.  “I did.”</p><p>Nova, bless her, did not say anything to this, so Leah issued a demand before that could change: “Get the crowd away- I need light.”</p><p>“Where’s Go-”</p><p>“Getting Doc Church.  Move them,<em> I can’t see!</em>”</p><p>Hands already sticky with coagulating blood, Leah fumbled in her pack for what medical supplies she had so far gathered, dumping them out onto the floor while Nova pushed the crowd back with an authority and sharpness that suited her well.  Simms was luckier than he knew, despite the doubtlessly white-hot pain that threatened to rob him of consciousness at any moment; the clear entry and exit wounds meant there was no need to waste time on a messy extraction while he was bleeding out on the saloon floor, losing air because his glottis, cartilage, and vocal chords had been ripped clean through.  (The rate at which he was bleeding made her suspect a carotid artery, as well, but the amount of blood gushing<em> from</em> said suspected carotid artery made it rather difficult to see.)  </p><p>One stimpak was all it took to heal the entry wound on the back of his neck, but panic began to work its way back into Leah’s mind when she realized that the internal workings would need a little more TLC if she wanted to avoid them healing in a detrimental way, and she was pretty sure Simms still wanted to be able to talk once this was all over.</p><p>But to be fair he had passed out, so it wasn’t exactly like she could ask.</p><p>It was at this moment that the rude, crude, magnanimous Doc Church burst into the saloon, shoved his way past the still growing crowd, and dropped to his knees at the sheriff’s side without so much as a glance at Burke’s quickly cooling corpse.</p><p>“Point blank to the back of the neck,” said Leah before he could ask.  “I already healed the entrance wound, but we need to stop the bleeding and make sure his windpipe is healed properly before we use any more stimpaks or he risks choking on his own blood more than he already is.”</p><p>Doc Church opened his mouth to speak, but it was the voice of Colin Moriarty that rang over the din of the crowd.  “Who the fuck went and died in my saloon?!”</p><p>“Get out Colin, and take them all with you!” the doctor shouted, pulling various surgical instruments from his bag and taking the vodka Leah offered for sterilization.  </p><p>“Like hell I will!”  He forced himself to the front of the crowd, so close to Simms that his boot accidentally kicked the toppled-over cowboy hat.  “This is my bar!  Operate in your clinic!”</p><p>“I’m operating here and you can kiss my ass if you don’t like it, now get the hell out!”</p><p>A few more curses punctured the air before the demand to get the hell out was repeated and the crowd was finally smart enough to comply, taking a begrudging Moriarty with them and filing out one at a time before the bar’s only occupants were two doctors, their patient, and a dead man.</p><p>“You know how to do a tracheotomy?” he asked Leah, holding out a length of surgical tubing and a scalpel.  She didn’t hesitate in taking them.  “Good.  Do that and keep him breathing.  I’ll work on putting his vocal cords back together and stitching up his windpipe before we pump him so full of stimpaks he’ll feel like a living pincushion.”</p><p> . . . </p><p>Together they carried the unconscious, bloody, and stitched-together sheriff towards the clinic while the late afternoon sun beat down on them from above.  Leah, with her half a foot disadvantage to the good doctor, was not offended when another Megaton resident offered to take her share of the load and slung the unconscious man’s arm over his shoulder.  She watched them go, disappearing through the door of the clinic with the squeak and clunk that no metal door seemed able to go without.</p><p>They’d done all they could, she and the doctor.  Simms was stable and breathing on his own.  He needed blood, fluids, and rest.  Doc Church would keep an eye on him to make sure infection didn’t set in, but Leah didn’t think she was overly optimistic in assuming he would live.</p><p>Whether or not he’d speak again remained to be seen.</p><p>Her head buzzed with quickly dropping adrenaline levels, and she dragged her feet back into Moriarty’s Saloon in a haze.  It was still empty, but surely wouldn’t be that way for long once Moriarty realized business could resume.  Sure, he’d have to do something about the body and the blood, but that was what he had Gob for, wasn’t it?</p><p>Burke’s body stared up at Leah, his head lolled to the side and rigor mortis settling into his limbs.  Kneeling, she saw the clean exit wound that her bullet had made through his forehead, and the same calm expression he’d been wearing when deciding to solve his problems by murdering Simms in cold blood.  </p><p>She hadn’t even given him a warning.  </p><p>She’d saved a life today, but she’d taken another.  Those facts warred within her and made her stomach roil, a sickening nausea creeping from her stomach to her throat and out to her fingers and toes.</p><p>The bulge in the inner pocket of Burke’s coat caught her eye, and she pulled from it the same little black and silver box that had been the catalyst to this day’s disaster.  She examined it, turned it over in her hands, marveled at its purpose and its capabilities.</p><p>Then he set it on the ground, stood up, and stomped down on it as hard as she could.</p><p>It took a few attempts to actually break the darn thing, but soon it was little more than a mess of wires, metal, and broken plastic components.</p><p>Leaving the mess there she then returned outside, padded down the various metal ramps that lead her to the town’s ground level, and approached the <em>apparently still armed atomic bomb </em>which sat partially buried in the dirt.  Confessor Cromwell and the other followers from the Church of Atom had finished their afternoon worship, and so the area was blessedly un-blessed and unoccupied at that moment.</p><p>Leah would never have considered herself an explosives expert, but megaton bombs were something she knew a thing or two about.  History classes in the vault had taught her about the Great Way and the attacks that destroyed the surface of the outside world.  Science classes had taught her about the bombs used by the Chinese for that purpose, as well as the “vastly superior” but somehow completely identical bombs America had used in retaliation.  She learned how they were built, and so in unintended addition, how they could be taken apart.  It was surprisingly easy to disarm; just the opening of a panel, the cutting of two wires, and the flipping of a switch.  Of course there was no real way to check, but Leah had it in good faith that the bomb for which the town was named no longer posed a threat to anyone aside from its usual amounts of ambient radiation.</p><p>She knelt and washed her bloody hands in the puddles of irradiated water which seemed a permanent fixture at the base of the bomb.  Her jacket and suit were both stained, as well, and it would take a good scrubbing to get either of them clean again, so just the hands would do for now.</p><p>And with that done she turned, found herself a nice shady spot in which to spend the next few minutes, and violently expelled the contents of her stomach.</p><p>Three days later Simms was still on strict bed rest orders.  The sheriff’s ten year old son Harden was charged with keeping the town safe while he couldn’t, and was taking it very seriously.  Leah heard him apologizing one morning to his usual playmate Maggie, saying that he <em>wanted </em>to play with her, but he was busy with sheriff duties and it would have to wait.</p><p>“My dad’s the best,” Harden said with a smile.  “I can’t let him down.  This is kinda like practice for when I’ll be the real sheriff one day.”</p><p>Harden was a good kid.</p><p>Leah had been thinking a lot in the three days since the shooting, about all she’d done and heard and been told.  Mostly, she thought about her dad and Galaxy News Radio.  She wondered if he’d gotten there safely, how long he’d stayed, and where he had headed next.</p><p>“I’ve made a decision,” she said to Gob and Nova, her short legs swinging over the edges of the tall barstool.  Her chin rested on her hand, and she was rolling the cap of her Nuka Cola back and forth on the counter to feel the ridges press against her fingertip.</p><p>“Finally gonna get out of here?” Nova guessed with her knowing smile.  Leah met her gaze out of the corner of her eye and nodded, tucking a long strand of hair behind her ear.</p><p>“I’ve kept Dad waiting for long enough.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. One Young Fawn, In A Maze</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>There's safety in numbers and dangers in the wastes.  But how can Leah be so sure she can trust those around her with her life?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warning for: Sexual assault and attempted rape.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jericho’s protection came at a cost of 1000 caps: 500 paid up front, and 500 to be paid once they reached their destination.  He was a vile, crass, and entirely dangerous man to be around,but he was also the only person in all of Megaton willing to be Leah’s escort to GNR.  She knew all too well that without one she would be dead in a day or less, and she judged his grating company to be preferable over death.  She didn’t have to like him to work with him, and so long as she paid he promised to protect her from whatever deadly creatures the wasteland had to offer.</p><p>They cleared Craterside out of its supply of relevant ammo.  Leah loaded her pack with what medical supplies Doc Churched allowed her to purchase, and Jericho his with a great deal of the saloon’s liquor.  On the day they were to set out she gave Gob and Nova each a hug and stopped by the recovering Simms’ house to give him well wishes.  Her escort, upon her arrival at the town gates, only offered an, “It’s about damn time” before turning and beginning to lead her on the path away from familiarity and towards that nebulous future that was Galaxy News Radio.</p><p>…</p><p>His usefulness was proven not twenty minutes out of the gate, when a small group of raiders camping beneath the crumbling remains of an overpass foolishly decided the two of them looked like easy picking. Leah, who had been distracted playing some version of hopscotch on the cracked bits of asphalt which had once been a road, ducked behind a rock for cover when a shot rang out and a bullet whizzed past her thigh.  She fumbled to pull her gun from its holster, curved her body around the side of the rock, took aim and-</p><p>The raiders were dead by the time her finger hooked around the trigger.</p><p>Jericho was halfway up the road by the time her gun was holstered.</p><p>“Not even worth the fucking bullets,” he groused, turning out the pockets of the freshly-made corpses.  A few bottle caps clinked to the ground.  He swiped them up, then began rummaging around the camp.  Leah pointedly ignored the bodies as she rushed to catch up, fearing that she would find them staring at her with the glassy-eyed expression of the dead.</p><p>Once the camp was well raided of its remaining caps, chems, and ammo, the journey continued. Leah marveled at the open sky, and how the world seemed to stretch on forever ahead of them.  In certain directions where hills or crumbling architecture did not block the view, the world seemed to go on forever until it just.  Stopped.  Not because there was no more to see, but because it was to far away to be seen.  Geography and science classes had taught her the layout of the world and its truly enormous size, but never had they prepared her for the reality of something so big you couldn’t take it in all at once.</p><p>Was it normal to feel dizzy, or was that just her?</p><p>She didn’t dislike the feeling, though.  Being closed off was familiar, sure, but the world called to her.  There was so much to explore, so much to know that her books and classes had never thought to teach.  What settlements were there like Megaton?  What stories did people have to tell?</p><p>A few more creatures of the wastes met their end at the barrel of Jericho’s gun as the duo made their way into more a more developed area.  Leah would have helped, but mirelurks’ weak points were impossibly hard to aim for and centaurs terrified her to the point of inaction.  As they ventured further into the ruined monuments of asphalt and concrete, Leah heard impossibly loud shouting from impossibly large creatures.  Or… people?  It wasn’t just shouting- it was speaking.  Impossible to understand beneath the barrage of gunfire that accompanied it, but unmistakable in its identity.</p><p>“Supermutants,” Jericho grumbled as an explanation.  He jerked his head to the right, towards a staircase that lead to a higher level of open ground.  “Hurry up and follow me.”</p><p>Aware of the fact that this direction was <em>towards</em> the terrifyingly violent sounding ‘supermutants’, Leah hesitated.  But the continuing sound of gunfire and the fact that she was standing alone out in the open were just the pushes she needed to follow.</p><p>Jericho grasped the handle of a door Leah had not previously noticed, set into the brick wall that adjoined the staircases.  It didn’t stick, despite the obvious age and rust, but swung open with a creak to allow them entry.  When it closed behind them again, Leah found herself in a familiar place of semi-darkness.</p><p>“Old metro tunnels,” he explained, starting down the hallway that was truly only big enough for one person at a time.  “Claustrophobic as shit, but better than trying to take down a bunch of supers.”</p><p>“What are supers?” she dared to ask.  Jericho snorted.</p><p>“Big, ugly monsters, that’s what.  They kill on sight, and whoever they don’t kill they take off to do fuck knows what with’m.  I’ll give you one piece of advice, kid: stay the fuck away.  If you can’t handle a mirelurk there’s no way in hell you could handle a super.”</p><p>But what ARE they? she longed to ask again.  <em>What did they look like?  Had they once been human?  How did they get to be the way they were?  Where did they come from?  Why are they as bloodthirsty as you make them sound?</em>  The strange creatures which inhabited the wastes were all chalked up to the excessive radiation that covered the surface and made its home in the water, but was that really all there was?  Leah could understand it creating radroaches or mirelurks, she even somewhat understood ghouls, but when it came to things such as centaurs?  Supermutants?  She was a skeptic.</p><p>But what did she know, right?</p><p>The faint noise of ambient machinery filled Leah with a sense of belonging as she followed Jericho through the maintenance walkways, stopping every so often to loot whatever they found.  Once she even managed to impress him, hacking an old computer terminal to unlock a door.  (Her father had forgotten his password so often that it became a necessary skill.)  The air was cool and damp, and the clang of metal beneath their feet as they walked reminded her of home.  Faintly glowing lights along the ground lead their way.  Every so often the ones above their heads flickered under the strain the past two hundred years.</p><p>Eventually they made their way from maintenance tunnels to the train tunnels themselves.  These were all rock and concrete, rather than metal, and so large that their footsteps echoed behind them as they walked.  Upon reaching what had, in the past, been one of the train stations, Leah marveled at the pure emptiness she was presented with.  The domed ceiling and wooden beams had survived the onslaught of the bombs and remained artful relics of the past, even as rubble and debris piled beneath them.  Entranced, she ran to the very middle of the room, cupped her hands around her mouth and exclaimed, “Hello!”</p><p>The marvelous reverberation of her voice was unfortunately interrupted by Jericho’s loud cursing as he ran towards her, scanning in every direction with his weapon drawn.</p><p>“Are you fucking crazy or something?!” he demanded.</p><p>“I just wanted to hear-”</p><p>“We don’t know who the fuck else is in here, but shouting like that lets them all know where we are!”</p><p>Leah shrank.  She hadn’t thought of it like that.  Jericho shoved her roughly against a pillar while he surveyed the area, each party remaining still and silent as they listened for anyone heeding the siren’s call of her voice.  After a few minutes of silence Jericho declared it call clear, started off in one direction, and instructed Leah to “keep your damn mouth shut so you don’t get us into any trouble when it actually fucking matters.”</p><p>Obeying his order as best she could, Leah followed.</p><p>Collapsed sections of the old railway tunnels made certain pathways inaccessible, but overall things seemed remarkably in tact.  The old train cars fascinated her; long, snake-like vehicles that had once carried hundreds of people at a time to their destinations of work, school, and home.  What had it been like, she wondered, to grow up not living, learning, and working in the same contained number of rooms?  The books she read always made travel sound so freeing; teenagers celebrated being old enough to drive, adults dreamed of flying to faraway destinations, families made long trips to visit relatives they saw only once or twice a year.  Did people really live with their lives so spread out across the world?  Were they happy?  Wasn’t it better to stay close to those you care about and stick together, or was she missing something truly integral about the human experience?</p><p>Jericho was the first to enter any new rooms they came across, clearing them of molerats and radroaches before stepping in to begin looting its contents.  Leah was learning to start her own search quickly, lest her companion get everything of value.  She was managing alright, mostly finding abandoned chems and medical supplies that Jericho had no interest in and some long, flat pieces of scrap metal that she was sure Walter would find useful when she next made her way to Megaton.  The only unfortunate thing was how much they weighed her bag down, but that wasn’t about to stop her.</p><p>After squeezing between a wall and the remains of a train car an unusually long stretch of uninterrupted track greeted them, which would normally have been a good thing except that Leah saw what looked suspiciously like half a dozen human figures walking around at the bottom of the incline atop which they stood.</p><p>“Stay back.”  Jericho’s voice was sharp even though he had lowered it to a whisper.  On instinct Leah scooted so that most of her body was hidden behind the train car and she watched him carefully aim his rifle down the hall.</p><p>“Those aren’t raiders,” she whispered, terror rising in her stomach as her mind put together the messy pieces of the picture she was seeing.  They looked human in the most vague sense of the word; they walked on two legs, had two arms in the normal places that arms usually occupied, and a head on top of a neck situated between two shoulders.  But the more she looked the more wrong they appeared.  </p><p>They didn’t walk naturally, but instead with their legs spread too wide and their elbows bent.  They wandered aimlessly, sometimes standing in place and staring blankly at a wall for seconds at a time before turning and walking a few steps in another direction.  Their skin-what they had left of it-was drawn tight over their skeletal frames and in some places even muscle had been stripped away to expose patches of bone to open air.</p><p>“What are they?”</p><p>Jericho rolled his eyes.  “They’re <em>ghouls,</em>” he spat.  “Don’t pretend you’ve never seen one before.”</p><p>“Ghouls?”  That couldn’t be right.  “But they… I mean, Gob doesn’t look anything like them.  He’s like… a person.  Like a full entire person.”</p><p>“This is how ghouls end up.  Give’m enough time and they turn feral and attack anything that moves.  Fucking shufflers… I dunno why Simms lets one in the goddamn town if I’m just gonna end up blowing his brains out one of these days.”</p><p>“How they end-?”</p><p>The rest of Leah’s question was drowned out by the rapid, successive firing of Jericho’s gun as he pointed it towards one of the aimlessly wandering humanoids and shot a handful of rounds into its head.  This had the intended effect of killing it, and also the unintended but definitely to be expected effect of getting the attention of every other feral ghoul in the vicinity.</p><p>He mowed them down with impunity.  In seconds flat the ground was littered with the corpses of what Leah now knew used to be people.  The longer she stared the more she saw traces of that past humanity; this one wore jeans and a pair of workman’s boots, that one a long dress and the remains of a necklace.  On another the skin had not yet completely flaked from the scalp and a few remaining locks of long, brown hair were knotted into a tangled mess of dirt, keratin, and blood.  Those with their heads still in-tact stared up at Leah with milky, unseeing eyes as she followed cautiously Jericho’s path forward.</p><p>“Why do people become ghouls?” she tried to ask, hopping carefully over some unimportant chunks of concrete.</p><p>Her bodyguard was less than thrilled by the question,kicking an errant rock from his path and not once looking back at his charge.  “Hell if I know.  Something to do with all the radiation, I guess.  Fries them inside out.”</p><p>“Then why doesn’t everyone turn into ghouls?”</p><p>“What do I look like, a ghoul expert?  Ask your pal back in Megaton; I don’t have time for that shit.  Has anyone ever told you how much you fuckin’ talk?”</p><p>That pretty much killed the dialogue right there.  Leah reserved to followed silently, and didn’t even mention the bag of 200 caps she found hidden in a toolbox when searching a janitor’s closet.</p><p>…</p><p>Leah’s pip-boy read the time as 9:43pm when Jericho voiced the decision to call it quits for the evening and set up camp.  They searched around for another “Authorized Personnel Only” door and found what appeared to have been an office in its previous life.  Flipping the switch reveals, by some miracle, working fluorescent lights, and dome elbow grease used to push everything up against the walls made enough room for both party member to lay down without touching the other, which was pretty much all they could ask for.  Leah pushed herself into one of the two corners not occupied by furniture and settled herself up against a wall to dig in her bag for that day’s dinner.  Pork and beans weren’t as good cold, but they were better than Salisbury steak.  </p><p>Jericho sat against the side of a desk, chugging down a third of the liquid from an indistinct bottle of alcohol he had pulled from his pack.  Far too exhausted from all the walking to really comprehend it, Leah felt very little as she registered the fact that her hired bodyguard was preparing to get raucously drunk.</p><p>“Hell yeah, to my first day back in action,” he sighed when his lips parted from the neck of the bottle.  “Nothin’ like a hard drink after a long day,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.  Some dirt from his glove smeared onto his cheek.  Leah offered him only a small smile, but found the following silence too much to bear.</p><p>“Thank you for coming with me,” she said eventually.  She’d thanked him when he first agreed to the journey, but it felt appropriate to do so now that he had actively saved her life a dozen times in the span of ten hours.</p><p>“It’s what you’re payin’ me for,” Jericho said with a shrug.  “Most people around here go where the caps are.  It’ll help you to learn that now instead of later.”</p><p>Leah pulled her legs to her chest as best as she was able, hooking her arms around them.  “I think I learned that when I met Moriarty.”</p><p>That made Jericho laugh.  It wasn’t a nice sound.  “Yeah he’s a greedy bastard, isn’t he?  I heard he made you cough up a hundred caps just to tell you where your dad went.  Guess I shouldn’t judge; I’d do the same damn thing.”  He drained another third of the bottle while Leah tried to make herself as physically small as possible, thinking maybe she could disappear into the shadows of the room if Jericho got drunk enough.</p><p>“So why’d your dad run off, anyway?” he asked eventually.  “The vault even shittier than we all say it is?  He say “fuck it!” and leave you behind to rot down there?”</p><p>There was no malice in Jericho’s voice.  Leah would have preferred it if there were.  Instead he spoke only with curiosity she suspected was only amplified by his quickly drunk-ening state, but somehow that made it worse.</p><p>“He had something to work on,” she said quietly, a not-exactly lie born from a dozen half truths.  “Something really important.”</p><p>“And he didn’t wanna take you along?”</p><p>“He wanted me to be safe and stay in the vault.”</p><p>Jericho laughed.  “Well, what a little fuckin’ rebel you are.”</p><p>They tolerated each other’s company in silence after that.  Jericho finished his nondescript bottle of alcohol and Leah hedged her bets on his lack of fine motor skills being the only reason he didn’t pop the cork out of the next.  As mediocre as the pork and beans where she finished the entire can, having subsisted the rest of the day on potato crisps and handfulls of sugar bombs.  She didn’t feel great, but at least she felt full.  Not wanting to smell old barbecue sauce and pork-substitute for the rest of the night, she rose and tossed the can out into the hallway with a distant clang before stepping back inside and finding Jericho leaning against a table and lighting a cigarette.</p><p>“Can you please not smoke in here?” Leah asked before she could stop herself.  “The smell makes me sick.”</p><p>He rolled his eyes.  “Boo hoo for you.”</p><p><em>You could just move into the hallway</em>, she thought, but said nothing.  Only stared at the burning end of paper and tobacco with a slight frown before sliding to move past him and back to her corner.  But Jericho stepped over to block her path, tossing the cigarette down to crush it beneath his shoe.  The smell of his breath wafted down to her; a combination of whiskey and cigarettes that was overwhelming.  Leah bit back the urge to gag, backing away on instinct but a hand snapped out and curled around her forearm.  Fingers gripped into flesh so hard she felt the ache in her bones.</p><p>“Y’know,” Jericho said, “a thousand caps really isn’t enough pay for me savin’ your ass every couple of minutes.  ‘Specially not with how much bullshit yappin’ I have to put up with.”</p><p>Leah tugged, but his grip on her arm was strong.  She tried again to step back but he pulled her closer.  A familiar sense of panic began bubbling in the pit of her stomach.</p><p>“Think I could find a better use for your mouth, though, and a way to pay me back all in one.”</p><p>The hand not trapping her wrist suddenly and harshly gripped her rear with clawing fingers.  Then it moved up, pressed against her chest, and pushed while his other hand pulled and Jericho leaned his weight against her.  Leah fell into the middle of the room and a shock of pain shot up her tail bone, but the distress of that was quickly outweighed by her supposed protector-now on his knees and straddling her hips-fumbling to pull down the zipper of her vault suit.</p><p>“Stop it-”  She tried to bat his hands away, then to grab his wrists and shove him off but he was so much bigger and stronger; her fingers didn’t even close all the way around his wrists.  “Jericho stop-!”</p><p>“C’mon, don’t be such a tease.”  He finally managed to pinch the tab of the zipper between his forefinger and thumb, pulling it down until it reached her stomach and exposing the black tanktop she wore beneath the suit.  “What?  You’ll fuck a ghoul but won’t even give me a thank you for saving your fucking life?”</p><p>One hand harshly fondled her breast.  Leah curled her arms into herself and twisted, trying to keep Jericho’s lecherous hands at bay.  His whiskey-heavy breath was drowning her.</p><p>“Why’re you lookin’ at me like that?  The whole town knows you and that shuffler in Moriarty’s are getting it on.  What’s the problem now?  Got a thing for corpses?  You’d rather go get it on with those ghouls whose brains I blew out?  That what gets you going?  No wonder they didn’t want you down in the vault, you little freak!”</p><p>Leah’s mind was swimming.  The only question she could think to ask was, “The whole… what are you talking about?”</p><p>But Jericho didn’t answer  He was too busy groping her through her shirt despite her protests, grinning down at her with a perverted sense of satisfaction.  His sharp features were twisted in the shadows of the room and the harsh, fluorescent lights.  Leah struggled and pleaded, even tried to shove him off of her a few times, but all without any effect.  Her throat and eyes filled with tears, panicked breaths coming in short grasps as she searched desperately for a way out.  The concrete floor was hard under her back.  Jericho’s weight was nearly crushing her.  The smell of his cigarette still lingered in the stuffy air.</p><p>“C’mon.  What d’they tell you in the vault?  Just lie back and think of the Overseer?”  He leaned in slowly, eyes hazy and half lidded.  Laughter from his own joke sent bits of spittle onto her face and neck.   She couldn’t breathe.  “It won’t be that bad…”</p><p>She doesn’t even remember raising her hand, curling it into a fist, or throwing the punch, but the next thing Leah knew there was a sickening and satisfying<em> crunch</em> beneath her knuckles, and Jericho let out a wail like a wounded animal and rolled off of her, clutching his face.</p><p>“You bitch!” he screamed.  Blood was pouring through his fingers and down his chin.  “You broke my nose, you fucking cunt!”</p><p>Seizing what little time this allowed her Leah scrambled backwards on all fours until she hit the wall.  She pulled her gun from its holster and gripped it in both hands, aiming as best she could while trembling violently beneath flickering two hundred year old lamps.  Mere feet away Jericho struggled to wipe the blood from his face as it dripped to the floor.  He looked up at her with one eye open and an expression that revealed only anger.  Indistinct machinery<em> buzz</em>ed and <em>humm</em>ed and <em>whurr</em>ed from all directions.  In the distance a piece of rubble came detached from its brothers and toppled noisily to the ground.</p><p>“You won’t fuckin’ shoot me,” Jericho said finally, and his confidence made Leah falter.</p><p>“I shot Burke when he attacked Simms,” she reminded.  “You attacked me.  I’ll shoot you.”</p><p>“Then do it.”</p><p>Leah swallowed.  “Move towards me and I will.”</p><p>Neither member of the standoff so much as blinked.  Leah counted her breaths and the drops of blood that rolled down from her attacker’s nose.  13… 14… 3… 15… 4… 16… 17… 5…</p><p>“Fuck it,” the former raider finally decided in a voice so loud it nearly startled Leah into shooting.  “Fuck it!  You wanna try and make it all on your own?  Fine!  See how far you fucking get without me!”</p><p>He reached over and grabbed his bag, pulling himself to a standing position and kicking the empty liquor bottle harshly in Leah’s direction.  He slung his gun over one shoulder, gave Leah a rude gesture over the other as he turned to leave, and stalked off with one last declaration of, “I hope the fucking ferals eat you, you corpse fucker!”</p><p>She kept her aim on the door until Jericho’s footsteps melded with the indistinct sounds of machinery and whatever besides him lurked deeper in the tunnels.  When the brain-to-leg connection was back up and running she jumped to her feet, slammed the door, locked it, then used every bit of adrenaline-fueled strength she had to push an old desk in front of it.</p><p>Then a chair.</p><p>Then she piled a side table on top of the desk and threw the heavy husk of an old computer down on top of it for good measure.</p><p>This continued for some time until everything in the room not bolted down was thrown onto the barricade in a giant, messy pile of whatever.  If Jericho came back, if he picked the lock and opened the door, Leah would know before he took a single step inside.  And she’d be ready.</p><p>She had to be ready.</p><p>Another bolt of pain traveled up her spine as he fell back onto her now surely bruised backside and curled up in the farthest corner possible from the door.  She trembled so hard that her muscles ached.  The scents of whiskey, tobacco, and blood filled the room and she choked on them.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. All I Can Hear is Dead Noise</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Leah is alone, and she is afraid.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The few, intermittent hours of sleep Leah got that night were the worst she could ever remember.  She sat bunched up in the corner farthest from the door, knees pulled tight against her chest.  Retrieved from the safe recess of her pack, Teddy functioned as a pillow for her forehead and a very small bit of comfort, but she still jumped awake at any sound her addled mind interpreted as footsteps.  When her pip-boy’s clock displayed the fact that it was a quarter to nine in the morning she decided to call it quits and just keep moving.  How hard could it be to get to GNR, anyway?  She’d grown up underground; tunnels were what she knew!  If she could, to that day, draw an accurate map of Vault 101 and all its floors, then she could surely find her way to the correct metro exit.</p><p>As it turned out, this was both a gross overestimation of her navigation abilities and a gross underestimation of how complicated the half-caved in tunnels were to navigate.</p><p>Aside from the fact that nearly every indistinct noise made Leah want to jump out of her skin, she quickly realized that she had very little idea of where she was going and where she had already been.  The coordinates that Moriarty had given her placed GNR Northwest of her current location, and while that may have been valuable information up on the surface it did very little for her in the way of tunnel navigation.  Jericho had never mentioned how close to the station the metro tunnels would take them and she’d never thought to ask.  That being the case, the only thing to do was continue in that direction for as long as she could and surface when she could travel no further.</p><p>Foolproof, right?</p><p>Her first roadblock came in form of another pack of feral ghouls shuffling around their little corner of a tunnel.  Taking them out had looked so easy when Jericho did it, but his confidence in handling a weapon and its longer range than Leah’s piddly little handgun made the situations<em> drastically</em> different and Leah was both too intelligent and too anxious to try and take them out the same way.  At least there were only four this time, but could she even down one before they all got to her?  Judging from what they’d seen before they ran frighteningly fast for creatures she had heard referred to as “shufflers” on more than one occasion.  She’d need to try something else.</p><p>Quiet as she could, Leah rustled in her bag and pulled out one of the frag mines she had disarmed earlier in the day.  Now, this certainly wasn’t their intended use but if she timed it just right…</p><p>A flip of a switch and a press of the pressure plate activated the deadly device, and a flick of the wrist tossed it down the hallway like a frisbee.  It clanked on the ground and gave three high, mechanical beeps that caught the attention of all four ghouls, who shuffled towards it curiously.</p><p>Then they were blown to pieces.</p><p>Or, more accurately, three of them were blown to pieces.  Their lower halves were more or less completely separated from their upper, bits of bone and assorted viscera flying to clatter or stick to nearby surfaces.  The fourth one, aside from continuing to stare at where the noise had come from, seemed completely unbothered by these events and seconds later returned to its aimless shuffling around the general ten foot area.  Leah got that one in the head with her pistol, but not before it was nearly close enough to strike her.  Why did facing down the barrel of a gun seem so terrifying, and yet using one herself was so ineffective?</p><p>When passing what remained of the other three corpses she half expected them to lash out and grab at her ankles with searching, bony claws.  That she’d have to finish them off with a head shot like in old pre-war monster movies they’d watched in the vault.  It was a pleasant surprise to find them just as cold and lifeless as one could hope.  Splatters of fresh red blood coated the floor, walls, and ceiling, reminding her of their past humanity.</p><p>She tried not to think about that and marched on.</p><p>Aside from the errant molerat or radroach interrupting her path the remainder of the journey was altogether very quiet.  She wouldn’t call it boring- she was far too anxious for that.  But with the knowledge that feral ghouls could be distracted by loud noises and picked off with a few well placed shots Leah felt her confidence in getting to GNR Plaza all by herself rise to above abysmal levels.</p><p>That optimism quickly crashed back down to earth upon hearing other human voices somewhere ahead in the tunnel.  She didn’t want to assume without meeting them that these strangers were out to get here, but her admittedly limited prior experience in the wastes pointed towards that being the case nine times out of ten and so she pressed herself into the shadows and made it a point to step carefully around any metal cans or other noisy bits of debris as she approached.</p><p>The cobbled together pieces of a camp came into view as she rounded a corner, sheets of plywood held between large bits of concrete formed uneven walls and small generators powered florescent flood lights.  Each of the three residents wore dirty leather armor, some pieces adorned with metal spikes or colorful tags of spray paint, and various weapons leaned casually against every available surface.  </p><p>It took her a moment to recognize the fourth person in the room, on account of their lack of a head and suspension from the wall by metal chains wrapped cruelly around their limbs.</p><p>Leah was satisfied that this proved her hypothesis about these being people she absolutely did not want to mess with.  Unfortunately, the only alternative path was very obviously blocked by a cave in, and so aside from turning back the camp was really her only option.</p><p>She waited for a time in the shadows, thinking perhaps they would leave or all miraculously drop dead and she could pass by without incident.  But an hour passed in anxious quiet and all that changed were their positions.  Two now sat at a metal table, eating messily at a meat that Leah could not and did not care to identify, while the third lay on his back on a stained mattress, poking at the deceased wall decoration with a length of metal pipe.  She couldn’t understand what any of them were saying, but the noise was cover enough for her to once again rifle through her bag, this time pulling out the Stealth Boy Moira had gifted her before she left Megaton.  It was old and banged up, but Leah had been assured by the talented tinkerer that she had fixed up good as new and it would function just as if it were fresh off the line.  Limited experience with Moira’s other projects didn’t give the best likelihood of that being true, but Leah figured that if it failed she’d could chuck a frag grenade in the opposite direction and hope they didn’t notice her rushing by when they went to check it out.</p><p>Seeing through ones own arms and legs was a dizzying experience metaphorically, and a little bit literally.  She was careful not to tread upon any noisy hazards, no crinkling pieces of paper or shattered bits of glass, and each breath she took was silent.  The narrow path through the camp was mercifully clear but she moved carefully so as not to brush her backpack against an errant bit of furniture or an outstretched arm.  </p><p>Passing the lone raider stretched out on the mattress, Leah saw he had abandoned playing with his dead prey in favor of inhaling deeply from a container of Jet.  She counted three other used ones tossed haphazardly around the room, and seven piled up beside the bed.  A quick glance also revealed containers of Buffout, needles full of Med-X and Psycho, and various unmarked bottles surely topped with alcohol.  It was altogether enough to stock her med kit five times over, and that fact warred with the little voice in her head that said she couldn’t just take any of it- it didn’t belong to her!  Reason provided a rather good argument, though, that these people weren’t using the medication for any good reason, and now that she was all alone she <em>did</em> need to look out for herself…</p><p>Through science that Leah did not understand, the chems disappeared as soon as she took them in hand.  With one junkie in a daze and the other two gnawing at their mystery meat, no eyes were turned in her direction as she slipped five, six, seven Jet inhalers into the pocket of her jacket.  Then some Med-X, then a syringe full of Psycho.  The container of Buffout was tempting, but the risk of the pills rattling as she walked was far too great.</p><p>It wasn’t a moment too soon that she stepped carefully away from the mattress, as the raider occupying it reached down to the bedside not half a second after she’d moved from that same spot. His hand padded around the floor, picked up a used inhaler, threw it around the room, and continued searching.  Finding nothing, he actually rolled halfway over to look at the pile of garbage mounting beside his resting place.</p><p>“The hell’s the rest of my jet at?” he slurred.  “One of you fuckers take it?”</p><p>“We didn’t take your damn Jet,” replied the woman at the table, not bothering to swallow before speaking.</p><p>“Then where is it?”</p><p>“You took it all!”</p><p>“I did not!  I had at least… at least three containers left!”</p><p>“You huffed it all,” insisted the other man, wiping blood and mystery meat juice from his mouth with the back of his hand.  “Go’n get more if you’re itching for a fix.”</p><p>The junkie on the bed grumbled and gave his companions a rude gesture that was returned in kind.  The floodlights flickered momentarily, and something in the distance sent echoes of sound rippling towards them through the darkness, but nobody seemed to notice.</p><p>Deciding she had spent more than enough time around these charming individuals, Leah turned to leave.  It was only at the last second that she saw the giant radroach which had snuck up behind her and changed the trajectory of her foot to avoid smashing it into a goopy mess with her boot.  She did, however, yelp, spin her arms around in the air like an off-balance comic book character, and fall back onto her rear.</p><p>This noisy display, of course, caught the radiers’ attention.  The two at the table jumped up, knocking over their chairs in the process.  The dazed one in the bed took a few seconds more to get to his feet but eventually joined his friends, swaying unsteadily all the way.</p><p>“The hell was that?” asked the woman.  “You heard that, right?”</p><p>“Of course I fucking heard it, it was right there!”</p><p>“But there’s nothing there except a radroach,” said the third junkie in a daze.  “Can they make that much noise?”</p><p>Leah sent up a brief prayer of thanks that the darkness made her blurry, mostly-invisible shape go completely unnoticed to the untrained eye.  The three of them were staring right at her, yet not one noticed her presence.  The hammer of her heartbeat in her chest was so loud in her ears that she worried they could hear it echo along the concrete walls, and she she had to fight against the instinct to completely hold her breath.</p><p>The radroach, unbothered by these events, scampered away to be disgusting and do radroach things somewhere else.  While the three murderous strangers started arguing about the noise capabilities of such a creature, Leah got back to her feet as slowly and silently as physically possible, paused for a good five seconds jut to make sure she remained unseen, and started a slow and deliberate walk away from the camp.  They’d forget all about the noise with a minute; if she could just get around the corner, then everything would be fine…</p><p>A sudden pain shot through her wrist as the repaired stealth-boy sparked and popped.  Something inside the tiny machine, be it wires or microchips or whatever else it was made of, exploded in a startling flash of sparks and smoke.  Leah yanked it off before she could even process what was happening, and it landed several feet away in a heap before bursting into flames.</p><p>There was no time to adequately process that problem, however, because a much bigger one then arose in the form of three very angry, very confused, and very territorial raiders suddenly knowing of her existence.</p><p>“What the fuck?!” shouted one of them.  “The fuck is she doing here?!”</p><p>“Who cares?!” screamed the woman, picking up one of the many large guns from where it leaned against a wall.  “Let’s get her!”</p><p>Leah was not good at running.  But so far she was damn good at staying alive.</p><p>The voices and footsteps of the raiders echoed behind her.  Gaging their distance was impossible; when she thought they must be far away a voice would bounce off the concrete walls so plainly that she swore she felt their breath on her neck.  They screamed and cursed and whooped and brayed like dogs at her heels, eager for the hunt.  Thirsty for the kill.  Rapid gunfire sounded like the beating of her heart in her throat and bullets clinked off debris as she passed.  One whizzed so close by that she felt the heat singe her cheek.</p><p>“Let’s cut off all that pretty hair!” one of the men cackled.  “Bet the slavers won’t even take her once she’s all bald and ugly!”</p><p>“Fuck the slavers!” cried the woman.  “I’m gonna tear her apart <em>myself</em>!”</p><p>Leah took a right turn.  More gunfire.  A left.  More screaming.  She couldn’t risk looking back when one wrong step could mean her end, but not knowing how close they were was almost more terrifying than the threats of violence they promised if they caught up.  Adrenaline kept the burning of her lungs at bay and fueled the muscles of her legs past their limits as she begged herself to keep going, just a little longer, just keep running.</p><p>Another right revealed the half collapsed remnants of a station.  The arches of two tunnels had broken and their roofs caved in, and the third was filled with the piled-up remains of a dozen train cars.  With no other option, she sprinted towards the stairs and took them two at a time.  There was no grace in her movements, scrambling to catch the handrail as she tripped and swayed from the back-heavy weight of her pack.  Halfway up when the raiders emerged from their tunnel, Leah had to admit that she was surprised by the distance she had managed to put between them.</p><p>But there was no time for pats on the back when the woman aimed her semi-automatic at Leah’s face and fired, missing only because she ducked at the last moment before finishing her scrambled run up the steps.  With only one way to go she hurried towards the light at the end of the tunnel.</p><p>Literally.</p><p>The battered, rusty metal gate of the metro entrance was no match of Leah’s full weight being thrown upon it.  It <em>squeak</em>ed and <em>clatter</em>ed and <em>clang</em>ed in a horrible cacophony of noise, possibly even falling from its hinges as she sprinted up yet another flight of stairs into the harsh, wasteland daylight.  She would later recount how lucky she was that no supermutants were there to greet her on the surface, only a black figure patrolling some dozen yards away.</p><p>“Help me!” she begged, still running.  “Please help me!”</p><p>The figure looked over, expression quite unreadable due to the considerable lack of flesh covering it.  Stringy red hair nearly touched her shoulders in patches where it was still attached, and a cigarette hung from her barely existent lips.  Before she could ask what this mysterious newcomer was on about, the shouting and cursing and popping of a semi-automatic rang out from the tunnel’s entrance.  Without thinking Leah dove for cover behind an overturned chunk of concrete and fumbled to pull her pistol from its holster.  She was lightheaded, her grip around her weapon made with weak and shaky fingers.</p><p>“Don’t take another step,” said the ghoul woman in a sharp, raspy tone and the relief Leah felt flood her system when she saw the weapon pointed at them instead of her was indescribable. “Or I’ll blow your goddamn heads off, every one of you.”</p><p>“You and what fucking army, shuffler?” spat one of the men.</p><p>“Say that one more time, smoothskin, I dare you.  You’re on Underworld territory and you’d better believe that I’ve got no problem piling up corpses for the supermutants to eat.”</p><p>Still panting, Leah peaked around the edge of her hiding place.  The raiders stood at the top of the stairs, the woman in the middle aiming her gun at the ghoul in black.  The ghoul was returning the stance, her own weapon a sleeker model as dark as her clothes.  It glinted a bit in the sun, and as afraid as Leah was of the dirty, rusty weapon wielded by the raider, she could think of nothing worse in that moment than being on the receiving end of the ghoul woman’s wrath.</p><p>“What about her?” demanded on of the men, shaking a rusty bit of pipe in Leah’s direction.  “Don’t see you threatening her!”</p><p>“She’s not the one pointing a gun at my face.  I don’t give a shit about tourists so long as they don’t threaten me or mine.  Now go crawl back into your hole before I make you dig your own graves.”</p><p>“I’ll be dead before I take orders from a goddamn corpse!” bellowed the woman, and her hand tightened around her weapon.</p><p>She was dead before she could pull the trigger, head caved in with the force of two laser shots to the skull.  Both her body and her weapon clattered down the stairs.</p><p>The ghoul woman cocked her head.</p><p>“Either of you assholes wanna join her?”</p><p>The two men, armed only with a rusty length of pipe and a hunting knife, stared momentarily down the barrel of their adversaries laser pistol and simultaneously decided that their wills to live were stranger than any blood lust they had felt.  They scrambled back down the steps, passing the remains of their former companion, and threw themselves back into the darkness of the metro tunnels.</p><p>The ghoul shouldered her weapon, dropped her cigarette to the ground and ground it beneath her boot, then looked down at Leah with the remains of her eyebrow raised.</p><p>“Do I even wanna know what you did to get them chasing after you like that?”</p><p>Leah laughed.  Her legs shook beneath her weight as she stood and her left calve twinged with pain.  “Thank you,” she said.  “For saving me, I mean- I’m not very good with a gun.”</p><p>“You wouldn’t be a threat with that thing even if you were the best shot in the D.C. wastes.  It’s rusted to hell.  Even Winthrop couldn’t get it into good condition and he keeps all of Underworld up and running.”</p><p>Underworld.  That was the second time now she had heard that.  Was that what some people called the metro?  That was about as ‘under’ as it got, after all.</p><p>“Sorry but-” the pain was getting worse, now radiating up the back of her leg and into her knee.  “-what’s Underworld?”</p><p>“You new here, tourist?  THIS is Underworld.”  Her left hand swept out to indicate the building standing proudly before them, covered in crumbling white pillars and statues of important looking men Leah did not in the least recognize or care to know about.  “You seriously never heard of it?  You been living under a rock?”</p><p>“Well, in a sense…”</p><p>“It’s a ghoul city.  And if you ask me what a ghoul is I’m calling your bullshit.”</p><p>Leah laughed again, shaky from residual adrenaline.  Was that what was making her leg hurt so badly?</p><p>“I’m Willow, by the way,” the ghoul said, lighting another cigarette.</p><p>“Leah.”</p><p>“Nice to meet you, tourist.  You should stop by and see Doctor Barrows when you go in to see the sights.”</p><p>“Why’s that?”</p><p>“Because that bullet in your leg is making you bleed all over the ground, and you should probably get it looked at.”</p><p>…</p><p>Past the gargantuan recreations of dinosaur bones and woolly mammoth bodies that had once made up the majority of this Natural History Museum, the entrance to Underworld was marked by the presence of a frighteningly large skull carved into the wall.  Any and all residents near the door stared at Leah as she entered, but she paid this little mind as the pain in her leg had become rather excruciating since she realized it was due to a bullet and, while she had used a majority of her adrenaline running for her life, enough had apparently stuck around for her to lapse into the beginning stages of a panic attack.</p><p>It took less time for Doctor Barrows to fix her than it had taken her to walk there.  Med-X was applied for the pain, the bullet removed and discarded, and the wound healed over.  He didn’t even seem fussed by it, and Leah almost felt ashamed at how scared she had been.  What seemed like such a terrifying ordeal was now no more than a raised, white scar on the back of her leg.</p><p>“You’re lucky it stopped where it did,” he said when she brought this up.  “A little further and it would have shattered the bone, and that’s something I can’t fix with a stimpak. As it is, once the Med-X wears off do your best not to put too much weight on that leg for the rest of the day, or else you might get a tear.  Should be fine by tomorrow.”</p><p>“Thank you so much.”</p><p>“I’m a doctor,” Barrows shrugged.  “It’s what I do.”</p><p>As much as she had been trying to ignore it, there was one very large elephant in the room.  She had noticed it upon first coming in but getting the bullet out of her body had kind of taken precedence.  But it was just so <em>strange</em>.</p><p>“Among other things,” she said, and indicated the area adjacent to the room they were in.  More of an observation chamber than a room, it was visible only through a large pane of reinforced glass acting as a window, behind which two feral ghouls paced aimlessly, apparently unaware of anyone else’s presence.  Not only that, but they each glowed a bright and violent green that Leah could only assume was from the incredible amounts of radiation.  It hurt to look at.  “I have to ask… What are they for?”</p><p>Doctor Barrows’ eyes widened and he clapped in delight.  “Why, they’re for my research, of course!  I am the Capital Wasteland’s foremost expert on ghouls and the ghoulification process.  These two are a special breed of feral ghoul which have absorbed so much radiation that they have become little more than living conduits of it, able to feed it to others just by being near them.  My hope is that if I can find out how their bodies manage to support such high levels of radiation without being destroyed, I can begin to unlock the secrets of how the ghoulification process itself works.”</p><p>That made sense enough, Leah supposed.  “I’ve been pretty curious about it myself.  There aren’t ghouls where I came from, and I never would have thought that humans could survive in the state that you do.”</p><p>“You seem sympathetic to the cause,” said Nurse Graves, a younger ghoul woman now sitting at the clinic’s computer terminal, likely entering Leah’s patient information.  She turned in her chair, leaning on the back of it with one arm.  “Tell me, smoothskin; think you’ll let me and Doctor Barrows poke at your brain to help us find some answers?” </p><p>A hand moved defensively to Leah’s scalp.  “I… kinda like my brain to stay inside my head, sorry.”</p><p>“Guess we’ll have to stick to coma patients and corpses.  Oh well.”</p><p>The ethics of that statement took a moment for Leah to process, but she decided to keep silent in the hope that it was a joke that she didn’t understand.  The numbness in her leg had begun to fade and a deep, throbbing pain to appear in the newly patched muscle.  He flexed her toes, irritated and cramped from dayso f being cooped up in her boots, and swung her legs childishly over the side of the surgical table.</p><p>“Does it feel weird?” she asked, looking at Doctor Barrows with a slight frown.  “Having those other ghouls in a cage like that, I mean.  Does it feel weird to you at all?”</p><p>Barrows raised a remarkably in-tact eyebrow.  “Does it feel weird to you?”</p><p>Leah nodded.  “A bit.  I mean, they were people once.  Like you.  And before that, they were people like me.  Now they’re just…”  Her gaze wandered to the containment unit, watching the glowing humanoids shuffle blankly around their prison.  Contrary to the luminosity they provided, there was no hint of light behind their eyes. What separated them from the people she was speaking to?  What made them dangerous, but Barrows and Graves safe?</p><p>“They lost their humanity some time ago,” the doctor shrugged. “I’ll admit it sometimes feels strange; these two were residents of Underworld, just like myself.  I used to know them, talk to them, fix them up when they got hurt.  Like you said, they used to be people.”</p><p>“What happened?”</p><p>“We’re not exactly sure what separates a ghoul from a feral,” said Graves.  “But there are theories.  One is that they’ve been exposed to too much radiation.  As ghouls, we’re healed by minor doses of radiation in water or air, and if we don’t get it regularly we can start to feel sick.  But in the case of ones like Meat and Ethyl-” she indicated the window “-too much exposure too quickly can fry the brain like an egg in the sun.”</p><p>“I’ve dissected a number of ferals,” Barrows said, “and without fail they’ve had excessive damage or large reductions in the size of their frontal and parietal lobes, leaving them with very little to go off of besides basic, animal instincts.”</p><p>“Makes sense.  Excessive amounts of high radiation damages the brain, creates ferals.”</p><p>The doctor nodded, arms crossed as he leaned against the wall and pulled out a box of cigarettes and a lighter.  Leah was about to scold him for smoking, but stopped upon the realization that he was a functionally immortal ghoul ravaged by radiation, and so some lung damage was probably the least of his worries.  It still smelled, though.</p><p>“That’s not the only way, though.  Not in theory.  We’re not completely sure, but we’ve observed that a lack of proper socialization may result in the deterioration of a ghoul’s mind, making them turn feral.  When someone new comes here to Underworld, I’m usually the first to check them out, and I’ve noticed a few… common traits among some who have been on their own for a while.”  He counted off on his fingers.  “Staring into space,lack of time awareness, wandering around aimlessly, violent reactions to being startled, just to name a few.  They usually perk up after a couple of weeks, but we’re pretty sure that if they were left along for much longer they’d turn feral, too.”</p><p>Barrows looked at her with a curious smile.  “It’s rare to find a smoothskin so curious about us ghouls,” he said.  “Why all the questions?  Thinking about joining the club?  Can’t say I recommend it.”</p><p>Leah laughed.  “No, I…  My dad’s a doctor, so I grew up around this kinda stuff.”  Well, not <em>ghouls specificall</em>y, but.  “I was always asking him why stuff was the way it is.  Sorry if I bothered you.”</p><p>“Hey, it’s never any trouble to help out a fellow scientific mind.  Where’s your dad a doctor for?”</p><p>“Well… that’s kind of what I’m trying to figure out.”</p><p>A woman named Carol ran the settlement’s hotel, appropriately named Carol’s Place, up on the second floor of Underworld.  With limited rooms it was set up less like a hotel and more like a hospital wing, with parallel rows of beds set up on either side of the large room, privacy screens separating each ‘room’ as well as they could.  Under strict orders to rest as much as possible, Leah sought the place out as soon as she could stand, wanting nothing more than a hot meal and some sleep.  Sitting on the concrete floor all night and munching on nothing but Sugar Bombs and potato chips was doing her <em>zero</em> favors.</p><p>Carol herself was exceptionally sweet, welcoming Leah with a wide smile and open arms.  And when Leah mentioned her ghoul friend back in Megaton, her hostess’ eyes went wide.</p><p>“Did you say his name was Gob?”</p><p>Leah nodded.</p><p>“Oh!”  She clasped her hands in front of her and swayed, a smile stretching out on her patchy face.  “Oh my Gobbie!  My little boy!  Oh, that’s my son- well, not <em>really</em> my son you understand, but I took care of him like he was my own.  He set out about fifteen years ago, you see, to try and find a place for himself, and I haven’t heard a word from him since!  How is he?  Is he doing alright?  Eating properly?  Where did you say he was settled?”</p><p>Her brain stalled, recalling what few facts she knew about Gob’s life: indentured servitude, beaten regularly by his employer, called horrible names by some of the customers.  It wasn’t altogether the greatest picture, but what could Leah say?  That he cowered any time someone slammed the door or raised their voice in his direction?  It would crush her!</p><p>“Megaton,” she answered after a moment.  “He works over in Megaton, at the town bar.  Honestly he keeps the whole thing running, I think it would fall apart without him there.”</p><p>“Really?”</p><p>“Mmhm- that must be why he hasn’t written; he’s really, <em>really</em> busy.”</p><p>Carol dabbed at the corners of her eyes with a handkerchief.  “I always knew he’d do well… I was so <em>scared</em> for him when he set off- he’s such a sweet boy, and there’s so many horrible people out there in the wastes who would take advantage of him.  But if he’s safe and sound in Megaton then I have nothing to worry about!  Thank you so much for telling me, I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”</p><p>The lies sat funny in Leah’s stomach, caught between the knowledge that lying didn’t fix anything and the knowledge that her knowing the truth wouldn’t fix it, either, only make her upset.  That being the case, Leah supposed it wasn’t the <em>worst</em> thing to leave her blissfully ignorant…</p><p>“I’ll tell you what, sweetheart,” said Carol, eyes still wet, “any friend of my Gobbie’s is a friend of mine.  You’re welcome here any time, absolutely free of charge.”</p><p>“What?  Oh, no, I couldn’t-”</p><p>“I won’t hear another word about it!  Go on to the very last bed on the left- I just finished making it up with clean sheets and blankets.  Here’s a key to the footlocker; I’m not saying anyone around here would take your valuables, but that poor old Patchwork has some… very unfortunate habits when he gets drunk and, well, better safe than sorry.  Oh-” she sniffled.  “Oh I’m sorry, I’m still all teary-eyed.  I’ll be right back, I’ve got to tell Greta the good news!”</p><p>Okay, now she felt awful.</p><p>Leah hesitated for far too many moments after Carol walked away with a delighted spring in her step.  This was wrong, wasn’t it?  But she hadn’t <em>asked</em> for a free bed, and she hadn’t exactly lied so much as not told the full truth…</p><p>The fact that her guilty conscience shut up almost immediately after setting eyes on the bed probably said something about her but Leah was in no state to think that deep into it.  It was a <em>bed</em>.  A whole, entire bed with pillows and sheets and blankets and everything!  And it was clean!</p><p>Already forgetting Carol’s warning about someone named Patchwork, she forewent the footlocker in favor of dropping her bag to the floor and flopping onto the mattress with a satisfying <em>fwump</em>.  It was old and creaky, but absolute <em>leagues</em> above the flat, lumpy bit of fabric and springs she’d become accustomed to back in Megaton.  She couldn’t help the happy groan that escaped her as her tired  muscles relaxed the cushions and her eyes slipped closed.  It was only a little after four in the afternoon but surely a little nap couldn’t hurt…</p><p>…</p><p>She awoke some sixteen hours later.  Groggy, a little confused, and with a dull but throbbing pain in the back of her calve, it was not the kindest awakening he had ever experienced, but the sleep itself had been one for the history books.</p><p>Snoring at various decibels alerted her to the fact that the other guests of the hotel had yet to rise, and so it was with every bit of caution that she did what she should have done the previous night and stowed her belongings in the assigned locker before sneaking to the bathroom.</p><p>Luckily, it had a working shower.  Even more luckily, it had a lock.</p><p>The water was lukewarm and the pressure only mild, but it was more than enough for her.  Leah stood beneath the spray until it soaked through her hair and rinsed the dirt from her face and hands.  The invisible fingerprints left on her chest wouldn’t wash away no matter ho hard she scrubbed, so she did her best to ignore them and carefully avoided her reflection as she toweled off, brushed her hair, and redressed to face the rest of the new day. </p><p>First order of business: she was trapped.  There were supermutants above ground and raiders below, so no matter how nice Underworld was or how friendly its residents, until she could find someone more skilled than her to accompany her, she couldn’t leave even if she wanted to.  When she’d mentioned GNR to Doctor Barrows the previous day he’d said she must have taken a wrong turn down in the metro, that the exit for the radio station as north and that she must have gone south in her haste to run from her attackers.  It wasn’t very far, he assured, but trying to get there by herself was probably the most unwise decision she could make.  And so, she needed a bodyguard.  Surely there was somebody somewhere in the town who who could accompany her.  She just had to ask.</p><p>Carol’s wife Greta, who ran the restaurant portion of their joint business, made no attempt to hide her annoyance with Leah’s very existence from the minute she sat down to order herself some breakfast.  Her questions were curt, her answers one word, and her smile nonexistent.  But she brought out the food in good time and didn’t roll her eyes too hard when Leah asked if she could think of anyone in town willing to be a bodyguard for hire.</p><p>“I dunno, hon.  Most of the people I see up here are happy enough to stay.  Maybe talk to Quinn; he’s the only one I know of who leaves the town regularly.”</p><p>When Leah asked where she could find Quinn, or what he looked like, Greta smiled.  “He’s a ghoul.  That should clear it up, right?”</p><p>By that afternoon she must have been turned down by three fourths of Underworld’s resident population.  She couldn’t blame them, really; seeing how Gob was treated back in a town as safe and welcoming as Megaton, how could she expect anyone to want to leave one of the few places where they weren’t looked down upon?  Moreover, why would they want to leave the safety of their home and its rising columns and thick, stone walls?  The well traveled Quinn had at least offered to accompany her if she was still in town when he made his way back from his next expedition in three to four weeks.</p><p>Thanks, but no thanks.</p><p>Even Willow turned her down, saying that she was more than happy as she was.</p><p>“Who’d guard Underworld from assholes like those raiders you had chasing you if I’m not around?” she asked.  “Sorry, tourist, but I’m not surprised you haven’t gotten a yes.  Most folks did a lot to get here in the first place, and some haven’t been out of it since the bombs fell.  It’s our place.”</p><p>Leah supposed that was fair.</p><p>“Hey, you haven’t been up to the bar yet, have you?” the sentry suddenly asked.</p><p>Leah shook her head.  “I didn’t think it would be open yet.”</p><p>“It’s pretty much always open, and if you’re looking for a bodyguard your best bet might be in there.  Guy who runs it’s named Ahzrukhal, and he’s got this guy who works for him named Charon.  Big, hulking guy, you can’t miss him.  He basically just works security for the bar, throws out drunks and troublemakers, but sometimes he’ll come help me’n Winthrop’n Quinn fight of Talon mercs when they try to raid us, and I’ll tell you he’s gotta be one of the best shots I’ve ever seen.”</p><p>That got her attention.  A good shot was exactly what she needed.  “Yeah?”</p><p>“No contest.  If anyone’s dying to get out of here, it’s probably him, but I guess he can’t since he’s under contract with Ahzrukhal or something.  Worth a try, at least.”  </p><p>Willow cursed as her cigarette refused to light for the third time, dropping the useless thing to the ground and yanking another one from the pack.</p><p>“Just be careful if you head in there,” she warned.  “Ahzrukhal can be one hell of a smooth talker, but take it from me when I say he’s not your friend.  He’s not anyone’s friend.  He’s in it for himself, and if something seems too good to be true I promise you that’s because it is.”</p><p>Leah nodded.  What an eerily familiar concept.  What a hauntingly familiar warning.</p><p>When she pushed open the doors of the Ninth Circle, all eyes were immediately upon her, but for once she wasn’t so bothered by the stares.  She’d been getting them ever since she first hobbled into Underworld on her injured leg, asking as politely as she could if someone could please point her to the hospital and apologizing for trailing blood in her wake.  This was a ghoul city, after all; Leah had to imagine they weren’t accustomed to human visitors.</p><p><em>Smoothskins</em>, she reminded herself.  <em>Not human.  Smoothskin.  They’re just as human as I am.</em></p><p>It was half past three, but the place was already starting to fill up.  Seats at the bar remained unoccupied, but most of the tables settled around the room were at least half filled with ghouls swilling their drinks and making hushed conversation while they very obviously stole glances at her, still standing in the doorway.</p><p>Leah scanned the room, and her eyes caught sight of a figure standing menacingly in the corner.</p><p>Willow was right; he <em>was</em> impossible to miss.</p><p>Aside from the standard ghoul fare of missing a good portion of his skin-which made one rather intimidating without trying-Charon stood out because of his innate ability to tower above everyone else in the the area.  Leah clocked him at at least 6’6”, and he was slouching.  His arms were crossed as he leaned against the wall, a shotgun strapped to his back and a look of complete and utter indifference on his face.  His eyes flicked down to hers, stared for a fraction of a moment, then went back to lazily scanning the room without so much as a hint of interest.</p><p>Well, better than joining in on the “everyone stare at the new smoothskin girl” bandwagon, she supposed.</p><p>With mounting anxiety over the pure fact that he was more than a foot taller than her, Leah approached.  Nobody sat at the table closest to where Charon stood, which made things at least a tiny bit less awkward, although he still refused to even glance again in her direction.</p><p>“Um, excuse me,” she said, noting with an uncomfortable jolt how her voice cut so clearly through the din of the room.  “Are, uh, are you-”</p><p>“Talk to Ahzrukhal.”</p><p>Leah blinked.  His voice was <em>deep</em>.  “Sorry, what was that?”</p><p>“Talk.  To.  Ahzrukhal.”</p><p>“I just wanted-”</p><p>“Don’t make me say it again.”</p><p>He didn’t even spare her a look.  Leah’s mouth flapped open and shut like a broken shutter for a few seconds while she craned to look at his face.</p><p>“I, uh… okay.  I’ll talk to Ahzrukhal.  …Which one is Ahzrukhal?”</p><p>Wordlessly, Charon jerked his head to indicate the bar.  When Leah looked she saw that a ghoul in a dirty grey suit had busied himself cleaning some glasses behind the counter.  He was already staring at her when she turned around, and that fact alone made Leah’s stomach tie in to all sorts of unpleasant knots.</p><p>“Right.  That… that makes sense.  Okay.  I’ll talk to him.  Thank you.”</p><p>Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.  Clearly her very existence bothered him, so how could she expect him to agree to essentially be her chaperon around the wastes?  Plenty of the ghoul she had met thus far had a general dislike for smoothskins, and Leah couldn’t blame them, but if she was reading this right Charon downright <em>despised</em> her.</p><p>“Well, what a surprise!  A smoothskin I’ve never seen before!  How wonderful.  I am Ahzrukhal, proprietor of this little slice of hell we all love here in Underworld- the Ninth Circle.  What is your name, my dear?”</p><p>She flinched on reflex at the nickname, her mind conjuring up images of a different man in a grey suit, and his promises of better things.  Every word from Ahzrukhal’s mouth dripped with similar oil and intent, and Leah craved another shower just from having heard him speak.</p><p>“Leah,” she said with her best, most people-pleasing smile.  “It’s nice to meet you, sir.”</p><p>“Oh, no need for the formalities,” Ahzrukhal insisted.  “It gets in the way of making friends.  Don’t you agree?  Now, you look like something’s eating you up.  Nothing a drink or two can’t fix, I’m sure- what will you have?”</p><p>She wanted nothing he had ever touched.  She wanted nothing he had ever been in the same <em>room</em> as.  “Oh, uh… I don’t… I mean, it’s still pretty early for me.  Could I just have a Nuka-Cola..?”</p><p>The bartender hummed, reaching below the counter.  “I believe I have one or two available… most of my patrons prefer to drown their sorrows with alcohol, but sugar can be rather effective, as well.  So long as you keep drinking, my dear, I don’t care what it is.”</p><p>Leah reached for the drink after Ahzrukhal popped off the cap, but he slid it away from her with a tut, laying his other out with an open palm.</p><p>“That’ll be twenty five caps, my dear.”</p><p>“Twenty five?!”  She got them at Moriarty’s for fifteen!</p><p>“I’m afraid we’re in rather short supply, being cooped up here in Underworld, so I’ve had to drive the price up.  You understand.  Come on, now; you wouldn’t want this one to go to flat now, would you?”</p><p>She paid with some of the loose caps stored in her pocket, placing them carefully in Ahzrukhal’s hand and nearly jumping out of her skin when his fingers curled around hers before she could slide her hand away.  There was no strength to the action, and she pulled away easily, but Leah had the distinct feeling of having stuck her hand into a puddle of something unidentifiable and sticky.</p><p>“Now, go on and tell Uncle Ahzrukhal all about your problems,” said the ghoul, leaning forward over the bar with his weight on one arm.  From such a short distance Leah could smell whiskey, cigarettes, and rot on his breath.  Every part of her seized up and she swallowed hard, leaning back so quickly that the high bar stool on which she had perched wobbled beneath her weight.  A brief, fierce frown passed over Ahzrukhal’s face as he leaned back into his own personal space.</p><p>“I…  I was trying to get to GNR,” she began.  “But my guide left me down in the tunnels and I got turned around and ended up here.  I’ve been looking for someone to make the rest of the trip with me, but… kinda come up empty so far.”</p><p>Ahzrukhal nodded.  “I see.  And one of the good samaritans here in Underworld mentioned Charon, and so you thought to ask him.  Well, I can understand why!  Charon is the best hired hand I’ve ever had.  This place would be nothing but chaos without him!”  The bartender looked over Leah’s shoulder and raised his voice.  “Isn’t that right, Charon?”</p><p>The only reply Leah heard in response was a disinterested grunt, but Leah paid it very little mind.  The way Ahzrukhal said his name bothered her; a <em>sh</em> sound at the beginning made the name feminine and soft, completely unsuited for the tall, imposing figure in the shadowy corner of the room.</p><p>Yellow, rotted teeth were exposed when Ahzrukhal smiled.  “I’m afraid you’ll be hard pressed to get him to agree to come with you, though,” he continued.  “You see, I am Charon’s current employer, and as such he is completely loyal to me.  I point, Charon shoots.  I command, Charon does.  I say something, Charon agrees.  What I want is what Charon wants, and our arrangement has been thus for… <em>many</em> years.”</p><p>Leah’s heart sank.  “You wouldn’t be willing to let me hire him out for a bit, would you?  Just to get me where I need to go?”</p><p>“Afraid not.  Charon’s loyalty extends only to the holder of his contract.  Otherwise… well.  I believe you’ve experienced his stubbornness first hand.”</p><p>She sighed.  So much for that, then.  Unless someone new came along the only option left was to wait for Quinn for a month; she probably had enough caps to last her that long, especially staying for free at Carol’s Place.  There were worse places to be stuck, Leah supposed.</p><p>“<em>However</em>…” the ghoul continued, drumming his fingers on the counter top.  They were so bony Leah swore they <em>click</em>ed.  “If you wanted to purchase his contract from me entirely, well… that would be a completely different story.  Think about it- a young, sweet girl such as yourself won’t make it a day all alone in the wastes, but with Charon by your side?  Why, he’d never abandon you down in the maze of the metro tunnels- that much I guarantee.  His loyalty would be unflinching, and he would protect you above all else.”</p><p>Willow’s words played back in her mind. <em> If something seems too good to be true, that’s because it is.</em></p><p>“…How much would you want for the contract?”</p><p>“Well, normally I would ask for two thousand caps,” he wheezed.  “After all, Charon and I have worked together for years, and the idea of letting him go saddens me.  But I just can’t stand the idea of a pretty little thing like yourself wandering around the wastes all alone.  It would do my heart good to see you protected.  So for you, my dear little smoothskin, I offer him… for free.  All you’d have to do is take care of a few small favors for me.  Nothing difficult, and I can tell you’re an <em>intelligent</em> young lady, so you’ll catch on fast, I’m more than sure.”</p><p>He placed his hand over hers, once again leaning over the bar so that Leah’s nose nearly touched the hole in Ahzrukhal’s face where his had once been.  The smell of his breath was overwhelming.</p><p>Leah had once thought to herself that Moriarty was the devil, but she had been wrong.  <em>This</em> was the devil, this man with tattered skin and cloudy eyes who spoke sweet words dripping with venom and promised protection in exchange for unspeakable things.</p><p>A harsh<em> scrape</em> filled the room as Leah hurried to push back her chair and step out of it.  Ahzrukhal’s brow was pinched with irritation.  His gaze was hard and cold. </p><p>“I’ll be back with your caps,” she said.  “Two thousand.  In full.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Someone Come and Save My Life</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Leah makes some sacrifices, Ahzrukhal gets paid, and Charon never misses his shot.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Although for the first time being bleached lighter by the post-apocalyptic sun, Leah’s hair was naturally a sweet, sunset orange.  It had always set her apart, down in the vault.  Old Lady Palmer would always pat her on the head and say how beautiful it was, how she wished more things in the vault were as bright and cheerful as her hair.  Leah grew it out for her, never once minding when it grew past her shoulders, her back, and eventually down to her waist.  It was a little bit impractical, but Lady Palmer was always so sweet to her and would always tell her stories and make sweets just for her on her birthday, so Leah was happy to do something so little to make her smile.</p><p>All of that being said, this was going to take some getting used to.</p><p>Short strands of hair brushed against her cheeks and the back of her neck, practically weightless now with more than two feet of length chopped away.  Even the slightest turn of the head made her dizzy, her body used to overcompensating for the heavy weight that tugged at her scalp.  It wasn’t enough to braid or even to tie back.  Having the back of her neck exposed almost felt like being naked.</p><p>Snowflake, Underworld’s self-proclaimed hairdresser for those ghouls lucky enough to have any left had paid her 100 caps to let him cut it.  Then he paid 100 more for the 7 canisters of Jet she had stolen from the raiders.  Now, Leah didn’t necessarily feel <em>good</em> about enabling someone’s chem habit, but she reasoned that he<em> was</em> a functionally immortal ghoul and so that took out a big chunk of the sting.</p><p>Plus, she desperately needed the money.</p><p>Adding up the 500 caps originally meant for Jericho, everything he had found on the way there, and what she had managed to save up in Megaton, Leah had 1302 caps to her name.  Not an insignificant amount by any stretch, but not the 2000 that Ahzrukhal demanded.</p><p>Quinn gave her 150 for the grenades and mines she had picked up and another 35 for all her ammo, but even he wouldn’t take the rusty, beaten to hell old 10mm she had been using since her first day out in the real world.</p><p>“Keep it as a good luck charm,” he said.  “Because the fact that it’s still working at all is pretty damn lucky.”</p><p>She traded her scrap metal to a ghoul named Winthrop, who was apparently the one who kept everything in Underworld running, from the water to the air vents to the unpleasant Mr. Gutsy that floated around the settlement, muttering about how his combat inhibitor prevented him from “sending these rotting corpses back to hell where they belong”.  (Apparently his name was Cerberus.  Leah avoided him rather ardently.)  The metal had been intended for Walter, but if Underworld needed it Leah saw no reason to hold out.  Four stimpaks for her troubles and three of the ones she already had netted her another 115 caps from Dr. Barrows, whom Leah suspected didn’t really need them or he would have just bought them directly, but she wasn’t about to complain.</p><p>“If it’s money you need,” the good doctor said, “then I think we can work out a deal.”</p><p>“Does it involve cutting open my head and looking at my brain?”</p><p>“No, no, nothing so invasive.  But I have to say, meeting a smoothskin who understands my scientific pursuits is rare, so I feel like you’ll react to my request better than those in the past.”</p><p>She did not like where this was going.</p><p>“I have plenty of ghouls to study here, but in order to properly find out what makes a ghoul a  ghoul, I need to study smoothskins, as well.  And judging by that vault suit of yours, you haven’t been out here in the wastes all that long so you have a… less than average exposure to radiation, so I’ll make you a deal.  If you let Nurse Graves and myself take a few samples of your skin and blood, you can have 200 caps.”</p><p>Being of the opinion that one’s blood should stay within their body at all possible times, Leah’s immediate reaction was a strong <em>absolutely not</em>.</p><p>But… 200 caps… and he <em>was</em> a doctor… and it wasn’t like he was going to make some weird clone of her; they didn’t have the technology for that.  (Right?)</p><p>“…How big will the samples be?”</p><p>Not too big, as it turned out.  Two small patches of her upper back were numbed, skin samples removed, and once she was patched up from that with orders to come back the next day and have the bandages changed, a bloodpack’s worth of blood was taken from the vein in her left arm.  It made her rather dizzy and nauseous, but Nurse Graves brought her a Fancy Lad’s Snack Cake to munch on while she recovered and the 200 caps were delivered as promised.</p><p>Just a little under 200 to go.</p><p>Carol was sympathetic to the cause when Leah explained that she needed money for an escort through the wastes, but Gretta pointed out how slow business had been for the last forever and so they didn’t exactly have the caps to spare.  The proprietor of Underworld’s armor and weapons shop, Tulip, shared similar sentiments.</p><p>“Quinn’s the only regular customer I have,” she said.  “Not a whole lot of foot traffic in a place like this, y’know?  I’ll give you a fair price if you have something worth my while, but that’s about all I can do.”  She eyed Leah up and down.  “How about that jacket?  I’ll give you… eighty caps.”</p><p>Leah pulled the jacket tighter around herself, shaking her head.  Sure it had been Butch’s, and the two of them didn’t exactly get along, and sure it was about two sizes too big on her, and sure the wasteland sun beat down on the black faux-leather and made her sweat, but it had been a gift.  And it was heavy and comforting when she couldn’t find a blanket to sleep under.  Eighty caps was tempting, but…</p><p>“Sorry… it’s not for sale.”</p><p>A ghoul named Patchwork, the town drunk, offered her double price for any alcohol she brought him.  He immediately forgot he had said this when asked how much he meant, and insisted he didn’t have any money anyway.  Then one of his fingers fell off and he shuffled off in the direction of the Chop Shop to get it sewn back into place, apparently not for the first time.</p><p>Charming.</p><p>Leah sat for a long while on her bed at Carol’s Place, recounting and resorting her caps into neat piles of one hundred.  Foolishly hopeful, she searched the bottom of her pack and the inside of her rented footlocker in the hopes of discovering a pile she had somehow missed or that had been left behind by a former guest, but of course couldn’t be that lucky.  Her count remained at a steady one thousand, eight hundred and two.  Just a hundred and ninety eight short of what she needed.</p><p>She thought of waiting; maybe in a couple of days someone would need help with chores or errands and could pay her.  But even if Carol wasn’t charging her for the room, Gretta made sure to get payment for all her meals.  Every day she stayed there and every meal she bought meant a slowly dwindling cap count.  With all her ammo sold to Quinn she couldn’t even go out to scavenge things to sell, not that there were many places to look with supermutants on the surface and bloodthirsty raiders high off of who knows what down below.  She was stuck, the proverbial rock and a hard place slowly inching closer to one another every moment she waited.</p><p>The walk back to the Ninth Circle was nerve-wracking, with a bag of caps heavy on her hip but not as heavy as it needed to be.  1802 wasn’t what Ahzrukhal demanded, but it was what she had, and Leah could only hope and pray that it and the chems she had collected that Dr. Barrows refused to buy would be enough to persuade him into parting with Charon’s protection.  He seemed like the type to peddle them on the side, keeping his customers out of their minds and out of their money.  Alcohol alone couldn’t give someone the foggy, blissed-out look she had seen on some of the patrons the previous night.</p><p>And that was when Snowflake had noticed her.</p><p>An oddball of a ghoul, the man still proudly sported a full head of hair and, upon seeing Leah’s, practically begged her to let him cut it.</p><p>“Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve gotten my hands on a full head of hair?  In a place like <em>this</em>?”</p><p>No, but she could imagine.</p><p>“C’mon, smoothskin,” he said.  “I promise, I’ll make you look fantastic!  Incredible, even!  My hands are as steady as the first day they held a pair of scissors.”  This was followed, contradictorily, by a long puff of Jet, and most of Leah’s positive opinions on the matter took a sudden trip south for the winter.  Aside from the fact that he was a Jet junkie, Leah hadn’t had a haircut in years, and even then they were done by the vault’s Mr. Handy, who was programmed to do that kind of thing.  Letting a stranger that close to her neck with a pair of sharp scissors?  No and thank you.</p><p>…But… then again…</p><p>100 caps for the Jet, 100 caps for her hair.  She walked into the bar with 2002 caps weighing on her hip, and approached the counter with a bright smile.  Ahzrukhal was organizing something below the counter, but looked up when Leah caught his attention.</p><p>“Welcome back, my dear,” he wheezed.  “I see that you’ve met Snowflake, a loyal customer of mine.  I must say, you look even more ravishing than before.”</p><p>Leah reached up and twisted a lock of hair between her fingers, trying to ignore the crawling of her skin by instead focusing on how light her hair was.  Nine years and two and a half feet of hair, cut off in moments.  Snowflake had more of her hair than she did.</p><p>“So, about last night’s offer…” she began.</p><p>Ahzrukhal’s teeth were rotten and yellow, his grin so wide she feared the cracking of his charred, ruined skin.  “How <em>wonderful</em>.  I knew you were a smart young lady.  Why don’t we step bak into-”</p><p>Leah cut him off, though it took most of her courage.  “I have your caps.”</p><p>“…Excuse me?”</p><p>In lieu of a response, she pulled the bag from her hip and set it atop the bar.  “Two thousand, in full, just like you asked.”  When the ghoul behind the bar didn’t fill the silence her pause left, she continued.  “You can count them, if you’d like.”</p><p>He did like.  Leah watched closely, counting under her breath as Ahzrukhal’s fingers nimbly slid the caps into neat piles of a hundred, making sure he didn’t miss a single number.  Surely he saw her lips moving and the intensity of her gaze, but even so he said nothing.  Around them, patrons of the dingy bar stared at the mounting piles of caps filling up the counter space, surely whispering to each other about what all of that money could possibly be <em>for</em>.  Charon’s disinterested gaze bore into the back of her skull.</p><p>“Nineteen ninety-eight, nineteen ninety-nine…” counted the bartender, forming his final pile.  “Two thousand.”  Two caps remained on their own.  Ahzrukhal slid them back across the counter.  “It seems you’re a tad over, my dear.  Shall I assume you want your change, or were you so kind as to leave me a tip?”</p><p>Leah took them.  There was nothing she could buy with two caps and they both knew it, but it was better than having none.  Ahzrukhal’s gaze moved slowly over the small mountain range of caps with an unreadable expression that slowly morphed into a sly grin, his thin, dry lips curling up at either side of his mouth.</p><p>“I have to say… I’m impressed,” he wheezed.  “I didn’t expect you to actually do it.  I’ll admit I’m a little bit disappointed we couldn’t come to some… <em>other</em> arrangement, but a deal is a deal.  I’m not one to turn down such a lovely pile of caps.”</p><p>He reached into an inner pocket of his dirty suit coat, and Leah flinched back on the reflexiv fear that he would draw a weapon, and was relieved to instead see an old leather billfold.  It was brown and worn at the edges, and she marveled that he kept something so extremely useless on his person when pre-war money was little more than an interesting relic.  He opened one of the pockets and pulled out a worn and yellow scrap of folded paper, sliding it carefully across the bar.</p><p>“This,” said Ahzrukhal, “is Charon’s employment contract.  Whoever holds it is entitled to his services and his protection.  You point, he shoots.  Someone points at you, he shoots them dead before they can pull their trigger.  Simple as that.”  His finger lifted off the paper, hand returning to his side.  “And now it’s yours.  I’ll let you tell him the good news yourself.”</p><p>And with that he shoved his caps back into the bag in which Leah had brought them and took them through a door which she could only assume lead to his private quarters.  She was left alone with a confused audience of unfamiliar ghouls, a folded scrap of paper, and the apparent protection of the terrifying guard standing watch in the corner.</p><p>Well, at least that left her with nothing to lose.</p><p>Leah tried to ignore the curious gazes of the bar’s less inebriated patrons who tried to hide the fact that they were watching her.  Their confusion and curiosity were palpable as she approached Charon’s spot, the very same spot in which he had stood the previous day, and the same position as well.  If Leah didn’t know any better she would have said that he hadn’t moved a single muscle in all that time.</p><p>“Uh-” she started, waiting to see if his gaze would shift from whatever vague point on the opposite wall had caught his attention.  It did not.  “Excuse-”</p><p>“Talk to Ahzrukhal.”</p><p>“I- I know but he-”</p><p>“Talk.  To.  Ahzrukhal.”  </p><p>“But I bought-”</p><p>The ghoul’s gaze turned sharply downward.  Leah jumped visibly at the contrast of his deep set, icy blue eyes against the torn, reddened flesh of his face.</p><p>“Don’t make me-” he grated in a voice like the crushing of glass beneath rocks, but suddenly stopped when he caught sight of the weathered scrap of paper grasped feebly in Leah’s hand, held up like a peace offering.  “…You purchased my contract from Ahzrukhal?”</p><p>She nodded.  “I need an escort to Galaxy News Radio.”</p><p>Charon stared down at her, flicked his gaze to the little piece of folded paper, then nodded once.  “I am no longer in Ahzrukhal’s service, but instead in yours.  That is good to know.  Please wait here; there is something I must do.”</p><p>These few words were already ten times what she had heard out of Charon the previous day, and more out of surprise than anything else she nodded and stepped out of his way.  Presumably he had possessions to retrieve, or friends to say goodbye to.  She planned on telling him there was no rush, they could leave tomorrow, but he was halfway across the room before she thought of it and so Leah stayed quiet.  Some of the patrons seemed more shocked to see Charon move from his post than they had been watching Ahzrukhal count out two thousand caps.</p><p>Speaking of the bartender, it was at that moment that he reemerged from the back room, just as Charon rounded the corner and stood behind the counter.  Leah could see Ahzrukhal’s smug, satisfied face, but whatever he said was drowned out by the radio and the clinking of glasses.  Charon’s voice traveled a little further, but the exact words were still impossible to make out.  Well, it was probably just a farewell or something of the-</p><p>Ahzrukhal’s brains were splattered across the back wall of the bar before Leah could even register that Charon had drawn his weapon.  When the body fell, unmoving, to the floor, he pumped the lever of his shotgun and fired another round into the corpse’s chest.  </p><p>Chaos erupted all at once.  What patrons there were screamed and scattered, leaving spilled drinks and tipped chairs in their wake.  “Oh my god!” exclaimed one as she rushed to the door.  “He killed Ahzrukhal!”  Another shouted, “He killed him!  He really killed him!”</p><p>Charon, apparently undisturbed, paid them no mind.  He stared down at the corpse, already mostly rotted though freshly dead, then shouldered his weapon and turned to make his way out from behind the counter.</p><p>“Alright,” he said, calm as could be.  “Let’s go.”</p><p>Leah scrambled backwards, her foot catching on a toppled chair and sending her tumbling down onto her rear with a yelp.  Charon stopped his approach mid-step and looked down at her with the same blank, unreadable expression with which she had seen him scan all of the bar’s patrons.</p><p>“What was-?!” she tried to ask.  “Why did you-?!”</p><p>Charon looked over his shoulder then back down at her  “Ahzrukhal was an evil bastard,” he replied, completely matter of fact.  A sneer ever so slightly curled at one corner of his mouth.  “So long as he held my contract, I was honor bound to protect him and do as he commanded, no matter how despicable I thought him to be.  But you purchased my contract, and so I was free to rid the world of that disgusting rat.”  He looked her over, a cowering young woman crumpled on a dirty bar floor, and Leah got the distinct feeling that he was not impressed.  “And now, for good or ill… I serve you instead.”</p><p>They didn’t stay in Underworld for long after that.</p><p>Leah reclaimed her 2000 caps, reasoning that it wasn’t <em>really</em> stealing since the man she took them from was dead, and taking Quinn’s advice into account bought a brand new(ish) pistol and all the relevant ammo Tulip had in stock.  She restocked on food, med supplies, and even bought herself a remarkably in-tact baseball cap to keep the wasteland sun from destroying her eyes.  Charon said nothing and asked for just as much, but silently accepted the offer of a hot meal from Carol’s place and wolfed his brahmin steak down in a minute flat.  Leah, swinging her legs under her chair while she munched on her own meal of iguana bits and insta-mash, asked with good humor, “Haven’t eaten yet today?” but only received a glance as a response before Charon’s eyes were back on his meal.</p><p>She took that as an affirmative.</p><p>It was late afternoon, moving quickly into evening, and the smart thing would have been to stay one more night in Underworld and rest, but Leah couldn’t shake the feelings of eyes on the back of her head wherever she walked.  Perhaps it was paranoia at work, but there was no way someone could just kill another member of a town and not face consequences, right?  Ahzrukhal may have been, as Charon put it, an evil bastard, but he was still a <em>person</em>.  </p><p>But… nobody seemed to be doing anything about it.  When they’d finally left The Ninth Circle with Leah on shaky legs, a few half-drunk ghouls from before had seen fit to sneak right back in, no doubt intending to raid the shelves of whatever they couldn’t afford.  When Leah stuttered the story to Carol she didn’t for a moment act upset, only a bit surprised, and Greta came right out to say, “About time someone took care of the old bastard.”</p><p>And so there they sat in the diner, eating together like it was no big deal.  The image of the former bartender’s brains splattered along the wall was barely enough to turn Leah’s stomach anymore, but certain undercooked portions of her iguana meat were suddenly much less appetizing.</p><p>“…You can have them if you want,” she offered to Charon, pushing the offending bits of reptile to the side of her plate.  “I’m not as hungry as I thought I was.”</p><p>He accepted the offer.  Leah rested her chin on her palm and stared idly at some kind of bug bonking its head on a nearby lamp.  She ran her fingers through her new hair, amazed at the rash desperation with which she had made such a decision but unable to find herself upset about it.  Carol thought it looked pretty.  Greta asked who she was trying to impress.</p><p>“Oh,” she said when a thought occurred to her.  “Can I ask you a dumb question?”</p><p>Charon looked at her across the table, saying nothing but wearing a look that clearly said <em>you probably will no matter what I say so just get on with it</em>.  </p><p>“Your name is supposed to be pronounced Care-on, isn’t it?  Everyone keeps saying it like Chair-on but I don’t… think that’s right…”  After a short pause to realize that she was very possibly <em>explaining someone’s own name to them</em>, she backtracked.  “I mean if that’s how it’s said it’s fine!  I just- we studied Greek mythology in the vault and if it’s the name I’m thinking of it’s normally Care-on and I just don’t wanna be saying your name wrong all the time like Ahzrukhal was.”  Whatever the correct pronunciation was, <em>Share-on</em> most certainly wasn’t it.</p><p>Charon’s expression didn’t change.  He chewed his bite of gifted iguana meat slowly and Leah felt her cheeks flush and she backtracked even further.  “But I mean if everyone says it one way then that’s probably right, right?  Sorry I told you it was a stupid question-”</p><p>“It’s Care-on,” he interrupted, enunciating clearly after swallowing his bite.  “I just never bothered to correct anyone.  Too much trouble.”</p><p>“…Oh.”  She blinked.  “Okay.  Care-on it is, then.”</p><p>Charon nodded.  “You’re from a vault?”</p><p>“Mmhm.”</p><p>“Heh.”  He stabbed another bite hard enough that the plate rattled.  “That explains a lot.”</p><p>Willow was on her usual patrol outside the building when Leah and Charon left, the sun just beginning to dip below the western horizon.  A grin stretched over her thin lips when she saw the two of them approaching and she paused to put a hand on her hip.</p><p>“Well,” she said, “you actually did it.  Wasn’t sure you had it in you, tourist.  How much’d he charge?”</p><p>“Two thousand,” Leah admitted with a small laugh.</p><p>Willow whistled surprisingly well for someone with cracks the size of fissures running through her lips.  “Damn.  Well, I guess it’s a small price to pay to keep your head out here, huh?”  She looked Charon up and down, not apparently intimidated by his stature.  “Good to see you out of that shithole we call a bar for once, Charon.  Bet it feels pretty good not to have to look at Ahzrukhal’s ugly mug day in and day out anymore, huh?  But man, what’s he gonna do without you to break Patchwork’s arm off every time he won’t pay his tab?  Do it himself?”</p><p>Charon said nothing, but looked to Leah as if for instruction.  Willow then looked to her for explanation.  Not knowing what either of them wanted her to say, it took her a few moments to stutter out, “Ahzrukhal is… uh… Ahzrukhal is dead.”</p><p>At this, Willow stopped, frowned, and asked, “…huh?”</p><p>“Charon… uh… he killed him after I bought his contract.”</p><p>Briefly concerned that Willow was, for some reason, going to be the one person who was outraged at the news of Ahzrukhal’s death, Leah was disproportionately relieved to hear her give a soft, satisfied laugh.  “No shit?  Damn.  Well good riddance to that asshole.  He made this place hell, no pun intended.”</p><p>She reached a hand out and ruffled Leah’s hair, looking at Charon.  “You protect the tourist, alright?  She’s not bad for a smoothie; I wanna see her back here in one piece the next time she visits.”</p><p>Charon nodded once and said, as if it explained everything, “She is my employer.”</p><p>The tunnels were somehow more claustrophobic with Charon at her back.  Safer, sure, but Leah could have sworn the ceiling was higher before, and the walls weren’t so close together.  How had trains ever made it through these things?  Weren’t they supposed to be massive? </p><p>No words were passed between the traveling companions as they retraced Leah’s steps from days ago, back in the correct direction of GNR and, unfortunately, the raider camp she had so narrowly escaped.  She tried her best to keep fear at bay, telling herself that she was safe now, that Charon was big enough to scare the raiders away even if he <em>didn’t</em> shoot them.  He would protect her; Ahzrukhal said that so long as she was his employer, Charon would be loyal and her safety would be his top priority.  He wouldn’t let the raiders or ferals or anything else hurt her.  Moreover, he would never hurt her himself.  She needed to stop being silly, to stop imagining she could feel his breath on her neck, smelling of alcohol and cigarettes and filth, feel his hands trying to pull down the zipper of her suit, hear him demanding payment for his services that she didn’t want to give-</p><p>“Be careful.”</p><p>Charon’s voice echoed around the open cavern of a room, shaking Leah from her cyclical thoughts.  Less than a step in front of her was a large, jagged hunk of rusty metal roughly the height of her kneecaps that would have been a real pain to walk in to.</p><p>“Oh!  Thanks.”  She side-stepped the obstacle, turning to look at Charon over her shoulder.  He was at least three feet behind her, nowhere near grabbing distance, but...  “Hey, uh… just in case, would you mind going in front of me instead?  Kinda… scouting ahead a little bit?  I’ll follow you, promise.  I won’t get lost.”</p><p>“I will scout ahead if that’s what you would like me to do.”</p><p>“Not too far!” she assured as he passed her.  “Just… a few feet.  So I can still see you?”  </p><p>Charon nodded and stopped about three yards ahead, waiting for approval.</p><p>“Yeah… yeah that’s good.  Thank you.”</p><p>The conversation ended there.  Leah reasoned that having Charon in front of her was a better idea overall, because he could keep an eye out for things that wanted to murder them while she remained safely hidden in his shadow.  And if the hairs on the back of her neck smoothed down when there was no longer someone so much bigger and stronger and more powerful at her back, then it was just a happy bonus.</p><p>The two remaining raiders from days earlier proved to be no challenge for a competent marksman.  They each got a bullet in the forehead the moment they moved to attack, both too drunk or high or whatever else to even walk straight, but Charon still got them right between the eyes.  He looted their corpses while Leah searched beneath mattresses and in drawers for anything of value.  The bodies were still warm when they left.</p><p>The journey was fairly short after that.  No more raiders or scavengers or anything of the sort interrupted them.  Charon didn’t say anything when Leah attempted to walk along a train track like a balance beam, only waited at a corner and jerked his head to indicate that the next room was clear of any threats.</p><p>It only occurred to Leah some time into their journey that she hadn’t once had to tell Charon which turns to take, and yet her pip-boy indicated they were indeed on the right path.  She wasn’t sure how anybody could navigate this series of identically ruined tunnels without aid, but each time he made a turn it ended up being correct.  Even when Leah was sure beyond all doubt that they were headed the wrong way, a sudden turn and a shortcut through an old maintenance access door put them back on track and before she knew it they had found the exit.</p><p>Or, presumably the exit.</p><p>“This is the closest exit to the plaza,” Charon confirmed when asked.  “We’ll have to walk above ground from here.”</p><p>The chill of the night air outside the tunnels was different from that below the ground.  Crisper, more unpleasantly bracing.  Leah tugged her jacket tighter around her as she ascended the stairs and her calves burned in want of flat ground.</p><p>Well, she supposed a mostly leveled city post-atomic bombing was never going to be <em>flat</em>, but it would certainly be an improvement.</p><p>The remains of what looked like it used to be a clothing store met them not a hundred yards from the metro exit, covered in makeshift wooden ramps that lead them from bit of broken floor to bit of broken floor.  Leah would have preferred to avoid it, finding that she and heights were newly acquainted enemies, but nowhere else was even remotely traversable with the mountains of rubble piled up in every direction.</p><p>Plus, Charon was already headed for it, so she was more or less forced to follow.</p><p>She was easing herself across an <em>extremely</em> flimsy looking board that she <em>absolutely</em> did not trust despite it having just supported Charon without so much as a creak, when movement from below caught her eye.  There was someone-something?-walking on a building’s lower level across the ruined street.  The dim light of the moon made it difficult to discern, but she caught a few very important things: it was big, it was ugly, and if she had to hazard a guess whatever was strapped to its back was capable of shooting a very high number of bullets in a very short amount of time.</p><p>“Hey-” she called to Charon in as quiet a voice she could manage while still remaining audible.  When he looked over his shoulder, she pointed.  “What’s that?”</p><p>The ghoul’s brow furrowed.  “A supermutant.”</p><p>“THAT’S a supermutant?!”</p><p>Charon reached out and grabbed Leah’s wrist and pulled her beside him behind a bit of wall that was still intact.  From below a loud, slow, grating voice called out, “Who’s there?!”</p><p>They were motionless.  Leah clasped her hands over her mouth to keep in the sounds of her breathing, cursing herself for doing something so <em>stupid</em>.  She’d been in the wastes for weeks now and she couldn’t even manage to keep quiet?!  Seconds passed, marked by the shuffling of the supermutant’s feet.  Some rocks fell.  Something metal hit the ground.  Then came the dissatisfied grunt of, “Guess it was nothing…” and only after that did Charon release his grip on her wrist, which had begun to throb.</p><p>“Keep quiet,” he said in barely a whisper.  She tried to nod, but he wasn’t even looking at her anymore, focused instead on finding them a clear path through the ruins.  For as much of him as there was, Charon turned out to be remarkably stealthy.  She followed behind as best she could, well hidden in the dark of night and the shadows cast by the moon.</p><p>She mimicked his steps exactly, finding her footing on support beams and the less-creaky bits of wooden platforms.  The urge to kick rocks from her second floor path to the ground below and watch them fall and crumble was strong, but she resisted for her own good.  Indistinct bugs made noises in the distance, high pitched and song-like.  Were they small and cute, like the crickets and cicadas she had learned about in her classes, or irradiated to frightening degrees like radroaches?  What kinds of insects had survived the apocalypse, only to try and thrive on this desolate earth?</p><p>This train of thought, while fascinating, was so thoroughly distracting that Leah’s face met Charon’s back before she registered that he had stopped moving.  The impact didn’t even jostle him, but a painful throb spread through her nose.</p><p>“Wha-”</p><p>“Shh.”</p><p>Leah shushed, and followed the line of Charon’s sharp gaze to find out what had stopped him so abruptly.  Their path continued down a large hill of dirt and debris from the second story back onto solid ground.  A quick check of her map revealed that yes, they were still headed in the right direction, and the plaza shouldn’t be too far away, either.</p><p>But the three supermutants patrolling not fifteen yards in front of them kind of put a damper on the whole “moving forward” idea.  Leah’s brain immediately regretted everything that lead up to this point when she focused in on one of their faces in an attempt to better understand what she was seeing.</p><p>Each of them had sickly, green-yellow skin stretched across swollen, bulging muscles with veins ready to pop at any moment.  What clothes they had on were ripped and dirty, with plates of armor cobbled together to fit their massive frames.  Their faces were all twisted and angry, mouthes set in permanent, toothy scowls that made Leah’s skin crawl.  One held the same enormous weapon as the one before, while the other two had armed themselves with a stretch of rebar and a stop sign respectively.  </p><p>They were also <em>at the very LEAST</em> two feet taller than Charon who, speaking of, grumbled a quiet, displeased sound in the back of his throat.  He held his shotgun in both hands with a sigh, and as hard as he was to read Leah could intuit his thoughts: three of them, and one of him, and who knows how much ammo it takes to take just one of those things down?  How much ammo did he even have?</p><p>She reached for Charon’s arm and tugged on it, motioning for him to wait when he looked down.  Quiet as she could, she plopped her bag onto the nearest patch of floor, rifled through it, and pulled out two of the frag grenades she had bought from Tulip after selling all her old ones to Quinn.  After that trick she had learned about feral ghouls, they just seemed like a nice thing to keep on hand.</p><p>She offered them wordlessly to him, one raised in each palm like an offering.  Charon looked at her for a moment, shouldered his gun, then took both grenades in his hands, pulled the pins out with his teeth, and said through the side of his mouth, “Take cover.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Don't Know Who I Can Trust Right Now</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Have you ever felt alone while in the same room as someone else?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Their arrival at Galaxy News Radio turned out to be altogether less helpful and a heck of a lot more dangerous than Leah had anticipated.  Between a rather unfriendly first meeting with a group who called themselves The Brotherhood of Steel, charging through a camp of supermutants, and the radio station’s plaza being attacked by an a variant of supermutant apparently called a ‘behemoth’ due to it being<em> at least four times the size of a normal person</em>, she was feeling rather lucky to have made it there at all.  Charon was to thank for a lot of that, but he was also to thank for the sizable bruise she was now sporting on her left bicep from when he shouldered her behind a slab of concrete for cover and she fell into a rock.  She wasn’t angry with him, and didn’t even think to bring it up, but it sure did hurt.</p><p>She wasn’t quite sure how she felt about the Brotherhood of Steel, if she was being honest.  The apparent protectors of the wastes had been none too happy about the grenades Charon had hurled at the supers, despite how entirely effective they had been as both a means of distraction and a means of damage.  Apparently they were planning an ambush and the explosives kind of ruined the whole thing.</p><p>“You’re lucky it worked out as well as it did,” said one of the soldiers, a blond woman with a sharp face and a deep scowl, “because getting in our way is a stupid as hell idea.”</p><p>Her name was Sarah Lyons, the commander of the Lyon’s Pride, apparently the most elite force in the entire Brotherhood.  They all wore shiny, silver armor that reminded Leah of the knights in the books of old fairytales her father used to read to her.  Except this armor was big and bulging, with wires and pipes connected here and there, like the people inside of them were controlling robots rather than wearing armor.  They wore helmets with big eyes and gas mask-like muzzles, the whole effect making her think of the close-up pictures of bugs which had frightened her in childhood.  She half expected wings to sprout out of the soldiers’ backs and carry them off, buzzing silver insects flickering in the wasteland sky.</p><p>Despite how unhappy they were with the interference, the Pride agreed to let Leah and Charon follow them to GNR, since that was where they were going anyway and the path was crawling with more supermutants than could be taken care of by a couple of grenades and some remarkably accurate shotgun work.</p><p>“So long as you keep out of the way,” Sarah clarified, giving Charon a sideways glance before looking back to Leah.  “And that means both of you.  We’re here to protect civilians, but we’re not gonna go out of our way to shield some kid playing ‘Daring Dashwood’ or her stoic ghoul companion.”</p><p>Despite having no idea what that meant, Leah understood the tone well enough to feel like she was probably being insulted.</p><p>So they followed, Charon behind the soldiers and Leah behind Charon.  At least a dozen supers fell before they made it to the plaza, and the cacophonic chorus of gunfire made Leah’s eardrums pound painfully in her head that it began to throb.  The soldiers were congratulating each other on a successful mission when the behemoth attacked, crashing through a pile up of car husks blocking a road and swinging an old telephone pole like a baseball bat.  It zeroed in on the young Initiate Redding, who had been celebrating their victory by firing her minigun (which was, contrary to its name, the biggest weapon Leah had ever seen) into the air.</p><p>It clobbered her over the head like a nail in a board.  Even with all her expertise, Leah knew well that she couldn’t fix a skull in <em>that</em> state of disrepair, and if Redding hadn’t already passed, trying to save her would only prolong the pain.</p><p>Leah hid behind a pillar of the GNR building with Charon by her side, peaking out from behind it and getting shots in on the behemoth whenever possible.  Something he saw made him abandon that plan, however, as he quickly fell to his haunches beside her, curled in on himself, and covered his ears.  This was worrying, but she had no time to dwell on it when the <em>loudest noise she had ever heard in her life</em> erupted from the other side of the pillar, and a bright white light blinded her for just long enough to be concerning.</p><p>When her vision returned and the ringing in her ears lowered to a more acceptable volume, Leah found a new reason to panic as the Geiger counter on her pip-boy was clicking like mad, the needle on the little dial flicking into the low teens.</p><p>While Charon picked himself back up and angled himself to once again survey the scene, Leah fumbled in her bag for the first bottle of Rad-X she could find and downed four pills, easing the effects of the radiation but leaving her with the terrible burning in the back of her throat she always got when she took medication without water.  Better than the nausea and disorientation radiation poisoning left her with, though, so she counted it as a win.</p><p>The plaza was quiet, after that, the behemoth apparently felled by a miniature nuclear bomb.  Too full of adrenaline to question why such a thing was allowed to exist, Leah caught her breath on the steps of the building while the soldiers all regrouped.  One, indistinct from all the others as they had their helmet up, pulled Initiate Redding’s body out of the rubble.  Sarah Lyons joined Leah on the steps, but did not sit.</p><p>“I’m sorry about her,” Leah offered softly, but Sarah shook her head.</p><p>“We told her countless times that rushing ahead like that was going to get her killed,” she said.  “She didn’t listen.  But she died a proud death in battle, and she’ll be remembered.”</p><p>A proud death?  Was there such a thing as a proud death?  Redding was dead.  She couldn’t have been much older than Leah.  Perhaps overeager and self-assured, she had been excited to be a part of the Lyon’s Pride and fight the monsters of the wastes.  And now she was dead.  What was so proud about that?</p><p>The radio building itself was as unimpressive, as grey, and as half-caved in as most of the other buildings in the downtown DC area, though it did have the distinction of being partially surrounded by sandbags and barbed wire and patrolled by more helmeted members of the Brotherhood.  After watching she and Charon arrive with the Lyon’s pride, and watching Charon aid in the felling of the behemoth, they let the duo in without much of a fuss, but outside of that were very little help.</p><p>“Do you know anything about GNR?” she asked Charon as they climbed a set of stairs to the building’s second floor.  Her calves were already stinging from the journey over so she barely noticed the sting of the uphill climb.  “I need to find a friend of my dad’s, but I don’t know their name or anything about them, really.”</p><p>He looked at her for a moment, but offered nothing.  His quiet was starting to become eerie, and Leah was almost sorry she asked, but when Charon looked forward again he offered, “It’s run by a guy named Three Dog.  If anyone, he’ll know.”</p><p>Well, a name like that certainly made things easier.  Aside from the brotherhood there was a small handful of people scattered about the building, doing various jobs Leah didn’t understand.  They all knew who she meant when she mentioned Three Dog’s name. Some asked if he was expecting her, others told her he was busy and not to bother him.  Eventually she found the man himself stationed in one of the upstairs rooms, surrounded by complicated looking recording equipment.</p><p>“Until next time, chiiiiiiiiildren!” he crooned into a microphone.  “This has been Three Dog, OW AWOOO! And you’re listening to the one, the only, Galaxy News Radio!  Now you all take it easy and enjoy a night’s worth of uninterrupted music, provided to you by our lovely, fantastic, could-blow-at-any-moment music console!  With special guests: The Brotherhood of Steel!  You make sure to give them a big thank you the next time you see a soldier, because without their help ol’ Three Dog might not be here today to give you sweet, sweet music.  Now everybody sleep well, and I’ll catch all you looooovely listeners tomorrow~!”</p><p>He flipped a switch on one of the machines and a song began to play, quick and happy and light.  Leah felt an old but familiar twitching in her toes.  She began to bounce on them as the music flowed up them and into her body, all the way out to her fingertips and her face and she grinned with a giddy sensation she hadn’t known since leaving the vault.  </p><p>Music.  How long had it been since she’d properly heard <em>music?</em>  Sure, there had been the radios in Moriarty’s Bar and the Ninth Circle, but the connection had been shoddy at best, and they were prone to breaking on their own anyway.  This was clear, crisp and beautiful.  Leah couldn’t help but hop in place and turn in a circle, hands waving excitedly in front of her as she giggled and hummed along to this unfamiliar tune.  She remembered standing on her father’s toes as a child, holding onto his hands as he helped her dance across their living space.  She remembered the old books of dancing she’d read, where men wore nice suits and women wore pretty dresses with flared skirts and black buckled shoes with heels.  Less pleasant were the memories of the vault dances she had endured, where nobody wanted to dance with her because she “didn’t do it right”.  But then, inevitably, Amata would take her hand and pull her to their own corner and they would dance their little hearts out, right or wrong, to whatever was put on the jukebox.  </p><p>“Now that’s the kind of enthusiasm Three Dog likes to see,” said that very man, who had moved to lean against the door frame.  Having forgotten for a moment that other people could see her, Leah stopped in place.  Three Dog’s laugh was warm and friendly, but still made her flush.</p><p>“Hey, don’t stop on my account little lady,” he said.  “If the music hits you like that then it hits you like that.  Do whatever makes you happy.  Ol’ Three Dog’s happy to see it.”</p><p>Three Dog was a man not much taller than Leah herself, with dark skin and a calm disposition.  The kind of person one met and automatically wanted to tell their life’s story to, trusting it would be in the good hands of a sympathetic ear.  </p><p>He also had keen eyes behind slightly smoked glasses, which he took off and wiped on his shirt after giving Leah a long, careful look.</p><p>“Do my eyes deceive me?” he asked, replacing the glasses on his nose.  “Is that a vault suit you’re wearing under that jacket?”</p><p>Leah nodded, and a little bit of the hope in her chest sprang back to life.  “Yes.”</p><p>“And let me guess: Vault 101?”</p><p>She nodded again.  “Yes, that’s right!”</p><p>“Well hot damn!  Two 101 escapees both runnin’ right up to my door!”  A grin broke out on his affable face.  “And if I’m not mistaken, you bare a particularly strong resemblance to the other vault dweller who was hangin’ around here not too long ago.  The name James happen to mean anything to you?”</p><p>Her face split into a grin.  “So he <em>was</em> here!  That’s my dad!”</p><p>“I knew it!  You look just like your daddy, you know.  Got the same fire in your eyes.  Well, Little Miss One-Oh-One, what can Three Dog do for you on this lovely evening?”</p><p>So she explained everything, about the vault and staying in megaton, ending up in Underworld and finally at his door.  She left out all parts regarding Jericho, and the exact details of acquiring Charon as her bodyguard, but otherwise recapped a good deal of her life’s story beyond the vault.  Three Dog listened with a smile that made Leah unafraid that she was boring him.</p><p>“-aaaaand here we are.  …Please tell me you know where my dad is.”</p><p>He laughed.  “Yeah, James was here a coupla weeks ago, said he’d just broken out of that little prison you molerats called a home.  He’s a good guy, your dad.  Spend a few days here with me, catching up all that he’d missed about the outside world.  Who better to fill him in than me, right?  But, uh, as for where he went next…”  </p><p>Three Dog leaned against the wall, chewing his lip.  “I’m… honestly not too sure I should tell you.  I mean, from the way he made it sound he wanted you to stay in that vault pretty dang bad.  I’m not sure he’d want me helping you out on his goose chase.  He’d probably just want me to tell you to go back home where it’s safe and he knows where to find you.  Buuut…”  He shrugged and smiled a little.  “I mean, you made it all the way here, and it seems like you’re doing alright for yourself.  Even got a bodyguard for protection; a lot of people aren’t smart enough to do that- their pride gets in the way.  Tell ya what; I’ve got a little somethin’ that needs doing.  If you do it for me and prove you’ve got what it takes, I’ll tell you where your dad went.  Sound fair?”</p><p>No, but what choice did she have?</p><p>Three Dog, the disk jockey of the apparently famous Galaxy News Radio, needed to get his voice out to more people.  The station’s signal, once strong, no longer reached outside the downtown DC area because their satellite dish was destroyed by an overzealous supermutant.  He knew of a new one they could use, kept in an old display in the Museum of Science back near Underworld, and if she could retrieve it and hook it up at the top of the Washington Monument, GNR would broadcast to the entirety of the Capital Wasteland.</p><p>“And if you do this for me,” he promised, “I’ll tell you everything I know.  Of course, it’s pretty damn late already, so I don’t expect you to go right now if you’re not up to the task.  From what I hear from the Brotherhood, you guys did help get rid of that behemoth that was about ready to use my building for batting practice.  It ain’t the most glamorous locale in the wastes, but there’s a room two doors down in the hall you’re welcome to claim for the night.”</p><p>Much as Leah wanted to refuse the kind offer and go get the dang satellite dish so she could get it over and done with, being in the midst of a supermutant camp and then in the blast radius of a mininuke had kind of depleted her day’s energy reserves, and any adrenaline she had left was starting to wear off.  So she accepted, and two doors down the hall she and Charon found a small room big enough for two mattresses to lay side by side.  Which, helpfully enough, there were.</p><p>“I know I only asked you to bring me here,” Leah said once she had sat down on one of them and was beginning to unpack her bag for the night, “and you’re free to say no if you’d like, but… would you mind helping me get the satellite for Three Dog, too?  I don’t think I’ve fired this thing-” she indicated the gun on her hip “-once since I’ve met you, but trust me when I say I’m not very good at it.”</p><p>Charon had not sat down, but did drop his worn backpack on the bed that Leah had not chosen.  “If that is what you wish,” he said, “then that is what I shall do.”</p><p>She smiled.  “Thank you.”</p><p>Silence grew again between them as Leah continued unpacking her bag.  Charon still did not sit, choosing instead to remain standing near the doorway.  </p><p>“Do you think we’ll be safe here?” she asked to break the quiet.  “The Brotherhood… I don’t know how I feel about them.  They don’t seem very friendly.”  Underworld felt safe.  Megaton felt safe.  GNR felt… neutral.</p><p>“I do not believe we are in danger,” Charon replied after a moment of thought.  “The Brotherhood will not attack us, and they will defend the building against supermutants.”</p><p>Leah nodded, though would admit if asked that she was not completely convinced.  Charon’s gaze lingered on her for a few moments, then he looked back towards the door.</p><p>“I will stand guard outside,” he said, moving back out into the hallway, “so that you may rest.”</p><p>“Wh- you don’t have to-”</p><p>But the door was already closed behind him before she could finish speaking.  Leah watched, but the shadows of Charon’s feet that interrupted the light coming in from the crack beneath the door didn’t show even the faintest hint of moving.</p><p>With a sigh, she settled back onto the mattress, pulling a mostly eaten bag of potato chips from her pack as that night’s dinner.  Teddy came out next, then she shrugged off her jacket to make use of it as a pillow.  A small slip of paper fluttered to the ground as she did, landing neatly on Teddy’s stomach.  Leah picked it up, realizing that he hadn’t even read Charon’s contract since receiving it from Ahzrukhal, too focused on her destination and the safety of her new companion’s company.  Maybe it outlined things she really should have asked from the start, like how much she was supposed to pay him.</p><p>Unfortunately, the contract had not weathered its age well.  Where the ink was not smudged it was faded, and in some places the paper had dried out and crumbled away into nothingness, leaving frayed edges and random holes dotted amongst the mess of ink.  Leah could faintly make out the words, “That person who holds this contract-” at the very top, but a large plot of black ink dashed any hopes of a finished sentence.  Random words jumped out here and there if she squinted: protection, services, unquestioning, violence, null and void.  Nothing to give her any concrete ideas of what was to be communicated.  Then, at the very bottom, a signature.  It was too long and complicated to be Charon’s name, but it was a signature nonetheless.</p><p>“How old even <em>is</em> this thing?” she grumbled after minutes of staring brought her no closer to answers.  “I know ghouls live a long time, but yeesh…”</p><p>But grumbling wasn’t going to get her anywhere.  She needed to sleep.</p><p>Leah folded the paper back up ever so carefully and tucked it back into her pocket, then folding the jacket up and laying her arms below it as she flopped onto her stomach for a bit of well deserved sleep.  She nestled her teddy into the crook of her arm, and tried to convince herself that the comings and goings of various soldiers were calming, rather than alarming.</p><p>It must have worked eventually.</p><p>She awoke several hours later with a startled cry that was stopped dead in her dry throat.  There were hands on her wrists, on her thighs, groping at her chest, one covering her mouth, one snaking down onto her thigh.  She smelled cigarettes and alcohol and death and blood, oily voices slithering into her ear with filthy promises and loving threats.</p><p>It took thunking her head on the tile floor once she rolled off of the mattress for Leah’s brain to register that she was alone in the room, that no one was speaking and the hands she felt all over her body were remnants of a nightmare.  She panted, staring wide-eyed into the darkness that not even the moon illuminated, until the connection between her mind and her legs suddenly reconnected and she pushed herself back up onto the mattress.  A hand scrambled for her glasses, the other for a bottle of water from her pack.  It wasn’t cold but it did a good enough job, quenching her thirst and making it easier to breathe.</p><p>Apparently the Brotherhood worked in shifts, as the footsteps and muffled conversations of the soldiers up and down the hallways were the same as they had been when she fell asleep.  Charon’s boots were still planted firmly in front of the door, judging by the shadows, and looking for all the world as if he hadn’t moved a muscle.</p><p>Though it was shaky, Leah breathed a sigh of relief and tried to calm her racing heart from the nightmare.  Charon was still there.  He hadn’t abandoned her.  He would stay through the night and keep her safe.  Nobody was going to get her.</p><p><em>You’re trusting him?</em>, asked a sudden, unwelcome voice in her mind.  It sounded oddly like herself.  <em>You don’t even know him.  You don’t know what he’s like.  What if he sneaks back in here and takes your things?  What if he hurts you?  What if he</em>-</p><p>He wouldn’t, she tried to counter.  After all, Ahzrukhal had said-</p><p><em>Yeah, because a glowing recommendation from Ahzrukhal means a lot</em>.</p><p>She watched the unmoving shadow outside the door like a cat with its hackles raised, ready at any moment to strike or sprint from danger.  Seconds ticked by on the dimly illuminated screen of her pip-boy.  Down the hall a soldier coughed.  Three Dog’s music drifted in through the walls, a woman singing about love.  Charon’s shadow never moved.</p><p>Leah rolled off of her mattress and crept, quiet as she could, towards the door, only stopping when a floorboard creaked beneath her weight, but Charon still didn’t move.  And he remained ever still when she grasped the handle of the door and turned its lock, satisfied by the faint <em>click</em> that it as still functional, and let that fill her with some relief.</p><p>She fell ungracefully back down onto her mattress, checking the still unmoving shadow once more before letting herself be taken over by sleep.</p><p>Charon said nothing about being locked out of the room when Leah emerged from it some hours later when the morning sun had begun to rise and turn the sky from black to pink to blue.  Still stood there, gun in hand with the door at his back, he only looked back when Leah offered a yawned, “Good morning…”</p><p>He didn’t complain of being tired or needing to eat when she said she was ready to go, only retrieved his pack and began to lead the way.  Three Dog was back at work hosting his radio show, and Leah heard through the walls and the radios him excitedly recounting the bloody battle with the supermutant behemoth.</p><p>“And I’ll let all you cool cats in on a secret,” he said as Leah and Charon made their way down the building’s front steps and out into the grey, foggy morning.  “Three Dog’s got some help from a friend of a friend, and if everything goes according to plan, you’ll be able to hear my voice all over the Capital Wastes.  That’s right, y’all, GNR’s gonna be back on the map!”</p><p>Retrieving the satellite dish was rather uneventful.  At the museum of science, Leah as able to hack a turret system back to life and let it do most of the work taking out the inhabiting supermutants, the stragglers being picked off by Charon.</p><p>“My friend Amata taught me that,” she explain in response to the question Charon didn’t ask.  “We used to sneak into closed off parts of the vault so nobody would bother us.  Computers are really simple once you learn the coding.”</p><p>Charon didn’t ask who Amata was.  He just reloaded his gun and began to wordlessly frisk the corpses of the supermutants for any valuables.</p><p>When they retrieved the dish from an old display about space travel and technological wonders of the pre-war past, Charon had to carry it because Leah flat out couldn’t.  It was too large for her arms to stretch around and too heavy to hold over her head.  Meanwhile her ghoulish companion had no trouble holding it in one arm and still keeping a walking pace about twice the speed of hers.  The bullet of a raider <em>plink</em>ed harmlessly off of the shiny metal surface and Charon dropped the dish, aimed his gun, and took them out before Leah could even get a finger around the trigger.</p><p>They went up to the top of the Washington Monument, installed the satellite with the help of a more scientifically minded Brotherhood initiate, and made it back to Galaxy News Radio before sundown.</p><p>“My hero!” praised Three Dog with an enthusiastic clap on Leah’s shoulder.  “Now the people all over the wastes can keep their spirits up while fighting the good fight.  Your pip-boy there gets radio, doesn’t it?  Tune into the station sometime; life’s always better with a little music.”</p><p>About to protest that it was really Charon who had done all the hard work, Leah was cut off by the fact that Three Dog very much enjoyed the sound of his own voice, as he launched into a lengthy explanation of how her father had visited him some weeks ago.</p><p>“He stopped here on his way down to a place called Rivet City, needed a place to rest for the night.  Outside’s not a super safe place to rest without someone to watch your back— especially not with all the nast, nasty people runnin’ around.  Raiders, slavers, all the worst bits of humanity crawling out of the dark to gnaw at the scraps of the world.  So I let him stay, got him caught up on the goings-on of the world he was cut off from living in that vault.  We talked about how everyone’s got a part to play fixing the world mankind fucked up with our stupid war, and it sounded like he’s got a pretty big plan for how he’s gonna help.”</p><p>“A plan?”</p><p>“Mmhm.  Dunno what it was, but it sure sounded important by how he talked about it.  Your daddy’s fightin’ the good fight, and I could see it in his eyes that he believes in it with everything he has.  That’s why he came back out here.”</p><p>Three Dog pulled his glasses just a tiny bit down his nose, fixing Leah with a clear stare and a smile.  “I see a lot of him in you, kid.  You’ve got that same fire in your eyes.”</p><p>People often said she looked like her father, but all he ever said himself was how much she reminded him of her mother.  In his holotape, he’d said he had something important to take care of, and that he hoped she would understand.  </p><p>What was it?  </p><p>What was so important that he had to leave the vault?  That he had to leave <em>her</em>?</p><p>“Why’d he go to Rivet City?”</p><p>“Said he thought he could find an old friend there, someone called Dr. Li.  That’s where I’d look next, if I were you.”</p><p>Deciding that it was already too late to make the journey that night, Leah and Charon accepted some dried molerat and instamash as dinner from Three Dog and the brotherhood, then settled back into their provided room for an evening of rest.  While Leah flopped back down onto her mattress, though, Charon stayed stalwart and upright near the door.</p><p>“You don’t have to just stand there,” Leah offered after a good few minutes of this.  “Sit down, take a load off, eat your dinner.”</p><p>A hodgepodge collection of boards and wooden beams made up an approximation of a dining table, flanked on two sides by actually well-constructed chairs.  Charon occupied one, scarfed down his dinner, then pushed his bowl aside and set his shotgun on the table, beginning to disassemble it.  His hands moved almost automatically, familiar with their task, removing even the smallest pieces without fear.  Soft <em>tink</em>s and <em>click</em>s filled the room enough that the lack of conversation felt natural, and Leah fell to eating her dinner in peace.  It was nice to see him doing something that wasn’t standing guard or killing something for once.</p><p>“Can I ask you something?” she said after some time, watching Charon meticulously clean the parts of his weapon with a cloth and something from a metal flask.  The side glance he gave said that was a stupid question, which Leah supposed was fair.  She pulled the contract from her pocket, unfolding it to its full size.</p><p>“I tried to read this last night,” she explained, “but it’s all worn and faded. Do you know what it says?  Ahzrukhal never said how much I’m supposed to pay you so I hoped that was on here.”</p><p>Charon didn’t even look away from his gun.  “I do not require payment,” he said.</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“You possess my contract.  There is no need to pay me.”</p><p>Leah frowned, pretty sure that wasn’t how something between an employee and an employer went.  “That doesn’t make any sense.”</p><p>When he made no move to elaborate on this claim, she prompted, “…Could you explain what you mean, please?”</p><p>“My contract states,” he began, “that so long as you are in possession of it, you are entitled to my services as you command.  You may command me to do tasks for you.  You may command for me to fight for you in combat.  You may command me to guard your person, your possessions, or your property.  You may command me to carry your possessions for you.  Anything I earn as a spoil is yours.  Any money or valuables I find are yours.  As my employer, your safety and wellbeing are my foremost concerns, and I will protect you from those attempting to do you harm even if I am not commanded to do so.  Physical violence on your part negates the contract; if you harm me, I am free to do the same to you and am no longer bound to your service.  I may not disobey your commands so long as they fall within these rules and I may not bring physical harm to you myself.”</p><p>He rattled it off without flaw or hesitation.  He didn’t even take a breath.</p><p>“That doesn’t tell me why I don’t need to pay you.”</p><p>“You hold my contract,” Charon repeated, an irritated edge creeping into his voice.  “No other payment is required.”</p><p>“But if I employ you, then by definition I’m supposed to pay you.  You do a job for me, and I pay you.  That’s what employment means.”</p><p>Charon just repeated, “I do not require pay.”</p><p>Leah watched him for a few more silent minutes, her mental wiring frantically struggling to connect the wires of this grim puzzle.  It wasn’t difficult, really, but she did every routine of mental gymnastics that she knew to avoid the truth.  What this was wasn’t unheard of out here in the wastes; in fact, from the way people talked about it, it was unfortunately common.  She already knew one such ghoul in a familiar position, though he and Charon couldn’t have been more different in every other conceivable way.</p><p>“Charon,” she said quietly, stomach churning.  “…Are you a slave?”</p><p>One of Charon’s large hands slammed down against the table, making Leah jump as the pieces and parts of his weapons jangled and shifted against each other.</p><p>“I am no slave,” he said sharply.  “I belong to no one.  You are my employer, and I do as you command, but do not mistake me for a slave.”</p><p>“But you’ll do what I say,” she pushed.  “Whatever I say, and without pay.”</p><p>He still didn’t turn to look at her, but his hands had stilled and the figure of his back was tense.  “You hold my contract,” he repeated tightly.  “So long as you follow its rules, I shall do as you command.”</p><p>They sat in uncomfortable silence while Leah digested this knowledge.  Charon, oblivious or uncaring of the complicated cacophony of emotions raging inside of her, resumed cleaning his shotgun piece by piece, then set about reassembling it. Leah stared down at the mess of runny ink on ancient paper.</p><p>“I don’t want it,” she said, and extended it out to him.  “I don’t want your contract.  Take it for yourself.”</p><p>He didn’t even look.  “I cannot hold my own contract.  If you no longer wish for me to be in your service, it is in your right to trade or sell it to whoever you wish, and I shall instead be bound to them.”</p><p>Was it worse to own another person, or to sell them like property?</p><p>“What if I destroy it?” she asked, nearly manic.  “Burn it, or tear it up into little pieces?  What then?”</p><p>“Even if you destroy the paper, you still hold my contract.  I will simply designate something else as a replacement, and whoever possesses it is to whom I shall answer.”</p><p>Her fingers trembled around the paper, which she hastily folded and shoved back into her pocket.  She tried to steady her breaths, but the terrifying realization of what she had done crept up the back of her throat and she nearly lost her dinner.</p><p>Charon was a slave.  A slave she, through her own ignorance and reluctance to ask questions, now owned completely and totally.  He was not a bodyguard, or a merc, or an employee, not when he obeyed her orders without question and asked for no payment in return.</p><p>“How can I free you?”</p><p>The question slipped past her lips without any forethought.  Charon paused for a moment, now reassembling his gun.</p><p>“So long as you hold my contract,” he said again, “I shall obey your orders.  That will not change unless my contract comes into the hands of another, or I die.  Until either of those things happen, I am yours to command.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Give Me Something I Can Believe In</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>There's so much Leah never knew about her father, so many questions she never thought to ask.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Rivet City was by far the most impressive settlement Leah had yet laid eyes upon.  Converted out of an old docked ship in what used to be the Washington Navy Yard, it was absolutely gigantic, well fortified, and smelled unfortunately of dead fish.</p><p>Then again the entire Potomac River smelled pretty badly of dead fish and fish-adjacent things.  It was rather unavoidable.</p><p>Getting into the settlement was an ordeal in and of itself.  After calling a guard over an intercom system he had to swing the bridge around that connected the mainland to the deck of the ship, and upon seeing Charon’s face that very same guard became reluctant to let them through.</p><p>“I need to see Dr. Li,” Leah insisted.  “And Charon is with me.”</p><p>“No brain-eaters allowed,” said the guard.  “Wouldn’t have even lowered the bridge if I’d known you had one with you.”</p><p>“Please, sir, he’s my bodyguard.  He’s not going to be any trouble.”</p><p>“You hired a<em> corpse </em>as your bodyguard?”  An irritated sigh left his throat and he shook his head, muttering, “Unbelievable…” under his breath.  Leah wondered momentarily if calling Charon her slave would be any better, if it would convince the man before them that he wouldn’t be any trouble.</p><p>But no.  She wouldn’t stoop to that.  She wouldn’t treat Charon like he was beneath her or infer to others that he was such.  If she was to be a slave owner in everything but name, then she would make sure nobody else suspected it.</p><p>“Please,” she repeated.  “I know you’re just trying to do your job and protect the city.  Everyone always gets mad at the people who have to enforce the rules because it makes you the bad guys.”  Officer Gomez had always complained about that to her father when they were down in the vault.  Grownups talked about a lot of stuff around her, forgetting she was there or thinking she wasn’t listening while she colored or read, but her ears caught a lot more than they realized.  “But I just need to get in to talk to Dr. Li, and wherever I go, Charon goes with me.  I’m really defenseless without him, sir.  I’ve only been out in the wastes for a little over a month.”</p><p>The sentry cocked his head.  “What settlement you from?”</p><p>“Vault 101, sir.”</p><p>He whistled.  “A vault dweller?  Damn, don’t see those every day…  I think one came through here not to long ago, though.  Said he had to talk to Dr. Li, too…”</p><p>“That’s my dad!”  </p><p>Leah jumped once, but was quickly reminded of the height of the bridge and the ease with which she could fall off of it.</p><p>“That’s my dad,” she repeated. “I’m looking for him- that’s why I have to talk to the doctor.”</p><p>Behind the guard’s darkened visor, it was difficult to discern his expression.  A slight downward quirk to his lip didn’t bode well, but in the end he sighed and motioned for Leah and Charon to continue across the bridge.</p><p>“If anything happens,” he warned as they passed, “or we suspect you or he did anything, your asses are out.  Got it?”</p><p>“Yes, sir,” she nodded.  “Thank you very much.”</p><p>The inside of the ship was claustrophobic in a very familiar way.  Charon had to duck each time they went through a doorway, and Leah was pretty sure that the guards patrolling the halls were giving him looks behind their visors even if they didn’t say anything.  Metal at various points in the distance <em>creak</em>ed and <em>groan</em>ed, but nobody seemed to pay it any mind so she decided not to be worried about it, either.</p><p>The Weatherly Hotel was advertised on some of the many signs set up to help confused travelers like her navigate the city, and it would have been a smart thing to go there first.  Drop off their bags, get some rest, maybe get a bite to eat that wasn’t 198 years expired potato chips or breakfast cereal.  But the tunnel vision in Leah’s mind only let her see the signs pointing to one location: Rivet City Science Lab.</p><p>It was in a large, empty area of what used to be the ship’s lower deck, probably used to store cargo.  When they entered onto a mezzanine overlooking the lab in its entirety, Leah had to stop and take it all in.  A large water purifier stood in the center, not quite up to the standards of the vault but a hundred times more advanced than the one in Megaton.  Two gigantic silos of water fed into it, and platforms had been erected all around it for ease of access and maintenance.  Around the room, tables occupied by beakers, Bunsen burners, microscopes, centrifuges, and all other manner of scientific equipment were manned by people in white lab coats, writing things down on clipboards in perhaps the most cartoonish example of science that Leah had ever seen.  To one side of the room were machines that she couldn’t even begin to discern the purposes of, and next to that was what appeared to a small kitchenette area.</p><p>And near that, by some miracle, were plants.  Real, green, growing, <em>plants</em>.</p><p>Descending the stairs two at a time wasn’t even a conscious thought, but before Leah knew it she was beside these supposed relics of the pre-war world.  Sure they had plants in the vault— perfectly controlled and homogenized bushels of fruits and vegetables, each bit of produce as perfect and spotless as its predecessor.</p><p>Mostly because they were all clones of the same plants, grown and regrown a hundred thousand times to produce perfect quality food for each inhabitant. </p><p>These plants were not perfect, not identical.  Shoots of leafy greens sprouted from square planter box, lopsided and unequal in size.  Vines crept up trellises constructed of wood scraps and wire.  Some leaves shriveled into failed yellows and browns but most were green and full and healthy— exactly like the pictures she had seen in storybooks when she was a child, and that she later studied in textbooks.  Leah reached out and pinched one between her fingers, feeling the smooth, soft surface and the subtle lines of veins on the underside.</p><p>“Excuse me, but you can’t be here.”</p><p>Leah jumped so high she swore she glanced the top of Charon’s head, swiveling around and meeting the angry gaze of a stern looking older woman.  She had tan skin and dark hair, pulled back out from her face.  She wore a white lab coat like everyone else in the room, and stared down at Leah from her slight height advantage.</p><p>“I’m so sorry,” she apologized in earnest.  “I wasn’t thinking— I just— this is just <em>incredible</em>!  I’ve never seen anything like this!  I just got really excited— I didn’t mean any harm—”</p><p>“I’m sure you didn’t,” the woman said, “but that doesn’t change that fact that both of you—” she looked up at Charon without a hint of fear, which Leah found honestly impressive, “are trespassing in a restricted area, and I’ll have to <em>kindly</em> ask you to leave.”</p><p>Leah shrank, pulling her arms back into herself.  “Please, if you could just point me in Dr. Li’s direction?” </p><p>“You’re speaking to her,” said the woman, apparently Dr. Li, folding her arms.  “And I know I wasn’t expecting anyone so don’t try to pull that on me.  Now, I’m sure you meant no harm but once again I’ll ask that you—”</p><p>She stopped, seemingly for the first time taking in Leah’s appearance.  The subject of the study wondered if she had something on it and hurried to wipe her mouth.</p><p>“My heavens,” said Dr. Li softly.  “It’s you.  I can’t believe I didn’t realize— oh you look<em> so much</em> like him.  You’re James’ daughter, aren’t you?  My god, what are you <em>doing</em> here?  He said he’d left you in the vault!”</p><p>“I came looking for him—”  She was smiling now, really smiling, the kind she couldn’t help because warm hope and happiness were rushing through her all at once.  “Three Dog— up at Galaxy News Radio?  He said that Dad came here looking for you— and the guard outside said he came through too.”</p><p>Dr. Li, still looking to be in awe at the sight of Leah’s very existence, pulled a chair out from a small table in the kitchenette and sat down, motioning for them to do the same.  Charon remained standing at her back, as was his way, but Leah sat down and faced the doctor across the table.  When Dr. Li’s gaze lingered nervously on the figure behind her, Leah said, “Oh— sorry, I didn’t introduce you.  This is Charon, my bodyguard.  He won’t be any trouble.”</p><p>She nodded, flicking her gaze between the two of them before clearing her throat and settling her attention on the young lady opposite her at the table.</p><p>“He… he came here a couple of weeks ago,” she began.  “I used to work with him back before you were born, and your mother as well.”  She rubbed her temple.  “You’ll… have to forgive me.  It’s been quite stressful around here lately.  I mean, he just showed up out of the blue!  After nearly twenty years!”</p><p>“So he’s still here?”  Leah felt herself inflate with breath and hope, holding it in for the answer she prayed for.</p><p>But Dr. Li shook her head.  “No, I’m sorry.  He stayed here for a while, helped us out with a few things.  But he was trying to get me and my team to go back and work on Project Purity with him.  I tried to tell him we left that behind a long time ago— that we left it behind when he left <em>us</em> behind.  But he just kept insisting that it was too important to give up.  I’m sure you know how he is.”</p><p>Momentarily distracted by confusion, she forgot to even be upset that she had missed her father yet again.  “What’s Project Purity?”</p><p>Dr. Li frowned.  “He never told you?”  When Leah shook her head she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.  “Typical James.  And I assume he didn’t tell you about our team, either?  All the effort we put into making that damn thing work just for him to cut and run?”</p><p>“He never even told me that I was born outside of the vault…” she admitted shyly, suddenly ashamed.  Just how much had he been keeping from her all his life?  How much did this Dr. Li expect her to know, and how miserably was she failing to meet the expectations?</p><p>The doctor’s laugh was bitter and dry.  “Of course he didn’t.  I suppose it was to try and keep you safe and happy down there in your vault bunker, but I swear that man has no foresight.  You’re his and Catherine’s daughter— how he didn’t expect you to follow him out into the wastes I’ll never understand.  When he told me he’d left you down there I asked him how long he thought it would be until you came looking and lo and behold, here you are.”</p><p>She was quiet for a moment, massaging her temple with a few long, elegant fingers.  Machines in all directions made various appropriate noises, and a few of the cartoonish scientists kept glancing over at the strange duo accosting their commander in chief, but Leah noticed none of this as she was too busy balancing on the edge of her seat for Dr. Li to continue.</p><p>“Project Purity,” she began, “was… a colossal undertaking.  Myself, James, Catherine, and the rest of our crew wanted to create something to help the entire Capital Wasteland.  A water purifier, bigger and better than any found in a single settlement like Rivet City or Megaton, capable of taking every fluid ounce of dirty, irradiated water and turning it into something clean and drinkable.  It was your mother’s idea, originally, but James was the one who really pushed to make it happen.  Of course, they weren’t your mother and father yet.  Just a couple of like-minded dreamers, and the rest of us couldn’t help but get swept up in it all.”</p><p>But of course— who <em>wouldn’t</em> get swept up in something like that?  Water was the very essence of life, that thing that every living creature on Earth needed most to survive.  Drinkable water was hard enough to come by in the wastes, let alone any that was free of radiation.  She had seen the effects of dehydration and water rationing, people outside Megaton begging for something to drink, drying out beneath the post-apocalyptic sun when others refused to share.  How many died every day because there wasn’t enough to go around?  How many still succumbed to radiation poisoning when they drank down any little drop they could get and burned their stomachs from the inside out?</p><p>Something bright and tearful welled up in her chest; the very <em>idea</em> of Project Purity— helping the weak and the sick, providing for those who most needed the aid —it was so incredibly her father.  She had always loved him, always admired him more than the Overseer she was supposed to idolize, but now she was well and truly <em>proud</em> of him.</p><p>“We worked on it for years,” Dr. Li continued, “building and rebuilding and recalculating and readjusting.  It was going to be revolutionary— could you imagine everyone in the wastes having clean, drinkable water?  The improvement to the quality of life?  The lives that would be saved?”</p><p>She sighed, slumping harder into her chair with a tight-lipped frown.  “But then… well, then Catherine passed away, and James decided that he didn’t want to risk his child’s life out in the wastes anymore, even though that meant throwing away everything we had been working on.”</p><p>The gaze that Dr. Li fixed her with made Leah feel like, somehow, she felt that this was all her fault when all she had done was have the audacity to be born.</p><p>“You were there when my mother died?”</p><p>She nodded.  “I helped deliver you.  I’m… I’m sorry I couldn’t do more for her.  There were complications after you were born.  She went into cardiac arrest, and we were working with such old equipment that we just…”</p><p>Staring down at the table, she sighed and shook her head.  “I’m making excuses.  Just know that your father did everything he could to save her.”</p><p>Leah nodded.  Hearing someone other than her father talk about her mother was… strange.  Nobody in the vault had ever talked about her, not even when she asked.</p><p>In retrospect, she supposed that made sense.</p><p>“Anyway,” Dr. Li sighed, “We already had more problems than we could handle.  Your mother’s death was impossibly hard on James and it just pushed him over the edge.  And without him, the Brotherhood didn’t see our project as worthy of their protection, and without their protection we couldn’t stay there without fear of supermutants.  So… we left.</p><p>“But then, in typical James fashion, he shows up back here raving about how we have to continue our work.  We told him no, that all of us had positions here in Rivet City, making this place clean and livable.  It’s no Project Purity, but dammit it’s just as important!  He didn’t want to listen, though.  So after a few days of being here he went off by himself back to our old lab.”</p><p>“Old lab?  Where’s that?  Is he there now?”</p><p>“Do yourself a favor,” advised Dr. Li shortly, “and don’t follow after him.  James took you to Vault 101 for a reason, and he left you there for the same one: it’s <em>safe</em>.  You have healthy food and clean drinking water, and judging by what he told me the worst thing you have to worry about is the Overseer looking over your shoulder.  Meanwhile we’re out here fending off everything from mirelurks to molerats to supermutants.”</p><p>She rose from her chair, smoothing down her white coat.  “So do what he would want you to do and go back.  I don’t know how you got yourself out but get yourself back in, and live the rest of your life in one of the only safe places the wastes have left.  Who knows?  Maybe he’ll come to his senses about all of this and be back in a few months, too, pretending again like all of this never happened.  Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have important work to be getting back to.”</p><p>She turned on her heel and began to walk away, head high and shoulders squared.  Leah watched her retreating back with an open mouth and pinched brow, her brain and voice connecting only once Dr. Li had gotten halfway across the spacious room.</p><p>“Hey!”</p><p>Her chair scraped against the concrete floor and teetered precariously on its back legs when Leah abruptly pushed herself away from the table and stood.  Both noises carried, but the sounds of Rivet City’s Science Lab drowned them out, and Dr. Li did not turn around.</p><p>“Excuse me!” she demanded, striding towards her with an unusual level of intent.  How dare this woman tell her what to do!  How dare she assume she had all the answers!  How dare she speak ill of her father!</p><p>“Ex<em>cuse</em> me!  Dr. Li!”</p><p>Finally hearing her name, the doctor turned.  Leah continued before she could open her mouth and scold her like a child to go back home and sit in time out, waiting for her father to return.  It wasn’t in her nature to yell, but the ambient noise of the room and her simmering rage both required it.  “I don’t <em>wan</em>t to go back to the vault,” she said.  “And I couldn’t, even if I did.  When Dad left, the Overseer saw it as a personal slight.  He was going to have me killed for it!  I know the wastes are dangerous.  I know the vault is safer.  But I’m here now, and I can’t change that.  I came all the way here from Megaton, then from Underworld, then GNR, just to find you because you know where my dad is so <em>please</em> just <em>tell me.”</em></p><p>Her voice shook.  She hadn’t even realized how loud she was shouting.  Other scientists from all over the lab stopped what they were doing to stare openly at the young woman in a dirty vault suit and leather jacket, followed closely behind by a tremendously large ghoul, neither of whom technically had the clearance to be in the lab at all.</p><p>Flushing pink to the tips of her ears, Leah’s gaze met the ground.  She took a few steps closer to Dr. Li and amended softly, “Please.  He’s all I have.  I <em>need</em> to find him.  Please just tell me where he is.”</p><p>Dr. Li was a proud woman, and she looked it.  The disdain of being challenged was evident on her face, and Leah shrank further away, but the woman was not without heart.  She sighed, rubbed her face, and after some thought said, “We were building the purifier in the old Jefferson Memorial building, just northwest of here, on one of the islands in the river.  It’s big and white and round, you can’t miss it, but I’ve heard that it’s been crawling with supers for the past couple of weeks.  I don’t know if James really did go there, but if he did… well, God help him.”</p><p>Charon lead the way, clearing out a few mirelurks hanging around the water’s edge as they followed the shoreline.  Just as Dr. Li had said, the building was quite impossible to miss; a beacon of strangely gleaming white against the backdrop of grey sky and brown water.  Pipes big enough to walk in ran through what had once been the main entrance, emptying out into the surrounding waters of the Potomac, with metal scaffolding constructed on top of them as walkways around the massive structure.  Leah could only imagine those were a more recent addition— instruments of Project Purity laying in wait.</p><p>It was lucky that they approached quietly, as from behind one of the pipes emerged a mutant carrying a semiautomatic, leaving them just enough time to duck behind the withered remains of a tree for cover.</p><p>“We’re too late,” Leah whimpered.  “<em>Weeks</em> too late.”  Why did she spend all that time in Megaton?  She should have made tracks the moment she’d heard the name Galaxy News Radio, but instead she’d lounged around for weeks to drink Nuka-Cola in Moriarty’s bar and do favors for Nova while her dad was all on his own in the wastes, working to restart a failed project and being attacked by supermutants.  How could she just abandon him like that?  How could she be so <em>selfish?</em></p><p>“Shall I attack?” asked Charon, reaching over his shoulder for his weapon.  “There is only one.  I should be able to take care of it.”</p><p>“Do you really think it’s just the one?”</p><p>He observed the creature’s path for a moment.  “No.  I’m sure there are more inside, if not others patrolling other areas.  Supermutants rarely work alone.”</p><p>“And they’ve been here for weeks.”</p><p>She didn’t cry, but it was a close thing.  The strain of it knotted in her throat and her chest heaved in little, aborted sobs.  Behind her glasses her eyes got foggy, but she didn’t let the tears fall.  “And they’ve been here for <em>weeks</em>,” she repeated with a croak.  “I bet they ambushed him while he was sleeping, or maybe while he was working.  He’s so easy to startle when he gets into something…”  </p><p>“There is a chance he may still be inside, alive,” Charon said.  “Supermutants will often capture their victims, rather than outright killing them.  They’ll keep them as captives.  Nobody is sure why.”</p><p>The tears stopped.  Leah stared at Charon’s face as if he had just delivered the gospel itself.  If there was one thing Leah was above all else, it was optimistic.  May it was stupid, foolish insanity, but if there was even the faintest chance that her father was alive in there she would not give up that hope until it was ripped away from her.</p><p>“Then we have to get in there.  We have to look for him.”</p><p>“It would be unwise for us to charge in.  There’s no telling how many of them await us.  Stealth would be a safer option.”</p><p>She had no repaired stealth boys to help her with this, only a ghoul with a shotgun.  But honestly she liked the odds better this time around.</p><p>“Alright.  Let’s go.”</p><p>The slow, creeping terror that turned to a spike of dread every time something rustled or crinkled or clanged in the distance was absolutely one of the worst things Leah had the misfortune of experiencing in her young life.  She would have taken being chased by raiders a hundred times over this.  At least with raiders she knew.  Now it was the uncertainty that was going to kill her.</p><p>At least Charon seemed calm.  He <em>always</em> seemed calm.  He’d been calm when he shot Ahzrukhal in the head and he was calm now.  The idea of a panicking Charon was as hilarious as it was unnerving, because whatever got him scared would have to be impossibly terrifying.</p><p>The building’s interior was as modified as its outside, with pipes and wiring running up the walls and through the ceiling.  Broken furniture was strewn about the halls and rooms, the floors covered with papers and scraps of metal and shards of broken glass that had been there for somewhere between two days and twenty years, it was kind of hard to tell.  None of it told them anything interesting, though,and they were left to sweep the place room by room for any hint of her father’s continued existence.  So far, they were coming up empty.</p><p>The fact that the supers seemed to have particularly bad vision in the dark was a small but welcomed blessing.  Compounded by the fact that either the lights were no longer working or the hulking masses of muscle and rage didn’t have the first clue about how to turn them on, hiding in the relative shadows was much easier than Leah expected it to be.  </p><p>Two mutants occupying one of the rooms that they passed were grumbling out a conversation in simple, childish English.  Something ammunition or supplies.  Charon stopped them right in front of the doorway, peaking in as subtly as he could, and waiting for just the right moment to hop across the opening without being seen.  He signaled for Leah to wait, and she dared not even breathe while his hand was up.  Then a quick jerk of his hand and head signaled her to continue, and she all but leapt across the gap in the wall, foot landing sturdily and quietly on the concrete flooring.</p><p>But the unbroken neck of a glass bottle that so happened to be beneath her other foot when she stepped down was not so considerate of the silence.  Charon whipped his head around to give her a gaze made of 90% fury and 10% terror as one of the muties growled, “What was that?” from the room.</p><p>She didn’t register Charon’s gesture at her to not move and stepped forward with the other foot, only for another shard of glass to breath beneath her heel.</p><p>From the other room, a supermutant yelled, “Who’s there?!” and footsteps heavy enough to shake the walls started towards them.</p><p>Before her body could even make a decision between fight and flight, Charon’s arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her to him as he started off at a full sprint down the hallway.  The mutants bumbled through the doorway and screamed at the sight of their new prey, charging after them.</p><p>It took a few seconds before every fiber of Leah’s being began to to scream, an agonized chorus of, “Let me go, let me go, let me go!”, even if her mouth didn’t quite get the memo.  She was silent as he carried her through the hall like she weighed nothing, moving faster than she had ever been able to run.  Charon’s hand gripped her waist painfully tight and she swore she felt it under her vault suit, against her skin, even pressing into her bones.  The stale scent of cigarettes burned her nose.  The mutants behind them didn’t even exist anymore, every sense overwhelmed and nauseous.  Her mouth was dry, her eyes wet.  Charon’s grip was too strong to fight against but even if it wasn’t Leah couldn’t have moved a muscle.  Terror locked up her body like the broken doll Amata had found when they were young and playing in off limits parts of the vault: joints too rusted to move, arms and legs locked at unnatural angles, covered in filth and dirt and grime that would never come off no matter how well she was cleaned.  Her mind screamed for freedom but her body said that maybe if she stayed still and quiet it would go away.  Maybe if she didn’t move it would all just be over.</p><p>Her elbow banged against the wall when Charon yanked open a door and pulled them both through, slamming it shut after him as the supermutants rounded the corner.  The sharp pain and noise of the door shook his captive from her semi-stupor.  Her fingers dug into any part of him that she could reach and she pushed against his strength, voice cracking as she demanded, “Put me down!  <em>Put me down!</em>”</p><p>No sooner had the words left her mouth than she dropped to the floor, scrambling away and pressing her back against the wall.  Her heart beat in her tossing, turning stomach.  The ghost of Charon’s grip burned like a flame on her hip.</p><p>“Don’t touch me,” she said, trembling, pulling her knees to her chest.  “I’m sorry I— don’t touch me <em>please</em> don’t touch me.”</p><p>Charon stayed by the door, saying nothing. </p><p>The stomping of the supermutants shook the door on its hinges as they approached with angry yells of, “We’re gonna get you!” and “Show yourselves!”  Leah fumbled to draw her weapon, but rather than breaking through the door, the mutants continued down the hall, their voices fading and leaving the room with only a generically mechanical hum.</p><p>“Wh… why didn’t they follow us in?”</p><p>Charon looked at the door, then he shrugged.  “They are not very smart.  They likely forgot what they were chasing as soon as they lost sight of us.”</p><p>That seemed too good to be true.  She watched the door suspiciously, as if expecting them to burst through at any moment saying, “Just kidding!”</p><p>But they didn’t.  It was only Charon by the door, staring down at her and waiting for orders.  She expected a reproachful stare or harsh words at how stupid she had been to not notice the glass, but he said nothing.  The stare of his shockingly blue eyes was as cold and even as ever.</p><p>She wanted to apologize, but she stayed her tongue.  He didn’t need to know what made her panic, and saying it would only make it more real.  If she denied it long enough, perhaps the memories would fade and she would no longer feel lecherous hands grasping at her beneath her jumpsuit or feel her nose burn with the scents of tobacco and alcohol and rancid, rotting breath.</p><p>Deep breaths helped her unclench her muscles, starting with her hands and traveling down to her feet one by one.  He knees buckled beneath her as she stood but the wall gave her support, and she finally gave the room they were in a proper look.  </p><p>It was more brightly lit than the rest of the memorial she had seen, and cleaner too.  Noises bounced off of a high ceiling and an absolutely enormous structure took up the entire center of the circular room.  Appropriately entranced and grasping at any opportunity to change her mind’s focus, she ascended the metal stairs that curved around the structure until reaching a landing at the top.  A clear sliding door slowed panels and dials beyond, all surrounding a central tank that, at the moment, was empty.  Consoles with wires pressed against the wall at irregular intervals, with wries running to and from each other and down into the floor and up into the ceiling.  If Leah knew nothing of Project Purity, she would have had no idea what she was looking at.</p><p>“The purifier.  Project Purity.”</p><p>Most of the machines weren’t active, including whichever one controlled the door.  She assumed the console on the platform did that but there was no obvious power button and it seemed best to leave things alone lest she press the “self destruct” button all large mechanical structures seemed to have in the stories she read. She doubted her father would have been so silly as to put something like that, but considering the number of times she had seen things blown up in comics for that exact reason, testing her luck was at the bottom of her to-do list.</p><p>They were lucky to have come in here, though, and Leah realized that when her eyes landed on the three holotapes stacked on top one another and marked with her father’s hand writing.</p><p>Even if the news they held was frustrating—she missed him yet again—the fact that he was still alive gave Leah relief that she didn’t know she needed.  As optimistic as she could be, there was a significant difference between hoping and knowing something to be true.  She hoped that her father had escaped the memorial without being killed by supermutants, but now she knew it, and her already weak knees struggled to keep her standing when she heard his voice.</p><p>Those three tapes tell her more about her father she never knew: how his work on Project Purity never really stopped even when he was in the vault, how he got drunk and snuck into the Overseer’s office just <em>knowing</em> he could find something there, and most importantly that he was headed to a mysterious Vault 112 in search of something just too good to be true.  Something capable of transforming miles of scorched earth into a green, inhabitable oasis.</p><p>The Garden of Eden Creation Kit.  The G.E.C.K.  It sounded impossible; little more than a dream starving wastelanders imagined and searched for as their salvation.  Leah had learned many times that if something sounded too good to be true then it was, but she had also been raised on the belief of God and His miracles.  And if her father—the most intelligent man she knew—believed in the G.E.C.K’s existence, then so did she.</p><p>“He’s not here,” she called to Charon, descending the steps with a tight grip on the railing.  “He left, let’s go back to Rivet City.”</p><p>“He’s there again?”</p><p>“No, he went to Vault 112.”</p><p>“Where is that?”</p><p>“I… have no idea.”</p><p>It was easy to sleep that night, curled up in a real bed with real sheets and blankets and pillows in Rivet City’s Weatherly Hotel.  Bone tired from travel, sub-par sleeping conditions, and nearly being eaten alive by Supermutants way too many times to be comfortable, Leah was ready to sink into the mattress and pillows and sleep like the dead.  If not for that complete lack of energy, she may have been more frustrated by the fact that every time she drew closer to her father’s retreating back, he stepped just far enough away that she couldn’t grasp him, but as it was she was forced into a tired resignation that she would have to keep going just a little longer.  He was there, she knew it!  She just had to catch up, latch on to his coattails, let him know that she was out there looking for him so he would turn around and wait for her to catch up!</p><p>But at least for now she had his voice, driven and calming all at once on his tapes, a familiar and comforting timbre she would listen to over and over and over again as he talked about Project Purity, about her mother, and his endless love for those two things.  Perhaps in another life the sting of knowledge that he had always planned on leaving her in the vault would have turned her bitter and resentful, but she forgave him for it.  The two things her father wanted most in the world were for her to remain safe and healthy, and to finish a project he had started with the love of his life.  Something to help people.  Something to change the world for the better and give its inhabitants something they so desperately needed.  </p><p>Project Purity was something her mother and father had started, and something that she and her father would finish.  She would make sure of it.</p><p>And if there was anything that Leah was aside from optimistic, it was stubborn.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. A Simple Souvenir of Someone's Kill</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sometimes hope is more painful than emptiness.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Underworld welcomed Leah back with a surprising level of affection when she and Charon passed through on their trek back towards Megaton.  Carol ran to give her kisses on both cheeks, stopped a moment from self-consciousness, then very nearly wept when Leah opened her arms to the woman and invited her for a hug.</p><p>Greta cut the touching moment short by yanking Carol back from the smoothskin’s embrace, but Leah tried to take it in stride.</p><p>“I’ve gotta hand it to you, smoothskin,” said the grumpy woman, “killing Ahzrukhal was probably the best thing you could’ve done for us.  Until someone decides to take over that old place, we’re the only place anyone around here can get booze.  We still make’m go drink it in the bar so they don’t mess up the diner, but that usually means they just buy by the bottle.”</p><p>Leah blinked.  “Uh… Happy to help?  But it wasn’t really me who killed Ahzrukhal- that was Charon.”</p><p>“Yeah, whatever.  Now you gonna buy something or what?”</p><p>Like with most things, Charon didn’t seem to have a strong opinion about how to spend the evening.  They ended up back outside with Willow, who was taking a break from her patrol around the building to sit on the front steps and smoke.</p><p>“You find what you needed to find out at GNR?” the ghoul asked, giving Charon an upward nod as way of a greeting.  </p><p>Leah shrugged, plopping down onto one of the steps.  “Yes and no.  The goose chase continues.”</p><p>“Are you the one Three Dog was talking about?  The one who helped with the satellite?”</p><p>“Mmhm.  It’s what he wanted in exchange for information; said he needed me to prove myself.”  She sighed.  “I think he just couldn’t find anyone else to do it.  Everyone always wants something…”</p><p>“Favors are just as good as caps.  Everyone’s always looking for one or the other, and nobody does anything for free.”</p><p>Leah eyed her up from the side.  “Does that mean you want something for saving me from those raiders a while ago?”</p><p>Making Willow laugh was an achievement she would happily accept.  “Nah, tourist,” the woman said, reaching over to ruffle the young woman’s hair affectionately.  “We’re alright.  Just don’t go pissing off more murderous hotshots and leading them back here again, if you can help it.  Then again—” she gestured to Charon, who was still standing “—with him by your side, I don’t think you’ve got much to worry about.”</p><p>That made her think.</p><p>Leah dug around in her pocket and pulled out a small pouch of caps, holding it in Charon’s direction.  “Would you mind going to get us some drinks?  I could use a Nuka.  Willow, you want anything?”</p><p>She grinned, lips painted a red that matched her scars and patches of stringy hair.  “You’re buying?  Alright, grab me a beer, big guy.”</p><p>Charon obediently took the money and turned back inside without another word.  Leah waited for the doors to close before releasing a heavy sigh, resting her arms on her knees, and turning back to Willow to admit, “I need help.”</p><p>She couldn’t make heads or tails of Charon and his contract.  When she thought she finally understood he did something that just confounded her more!  He wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t sleep, wouldn’t even drink water without being told to.  He hardly spoke to her and when he did it was almost always in as short of sentences as he could manage.  He said he wasn’t a slave but asked for no payment for his services.  As far as Leah could tell nothing truly bound him to his contract; there was no threat of violence from her if he walked away, no threats to his well being, no other boss ready to punish him if he disobeyed her.  Sure, she would point and he would shoot, but Charon’s companionship was beginning to feel less like an employee and an employer, and more like she was being followed around by an extra aggressive and grouchy Mr. Gutsy with a glitch in his personality and autonomy settings.</p><p>“Ahzrukhal didn’t explain much about Charon to you, did he?” Willow asked, and Leah shook her head.</p><p>“He only said he was loyal to whoever employed him.”</p><p>“Well, that’s not exactly a lie.”  She sighed, dropping the smoldering remains of her cigarette to stomp beneath her foot.  “Alright.  Basically, tourist, Charon is brainwashed.  He obeys orders from his boss like they’re the word of God or something; what they say is what he’ll do, to the letter.  You say shoot, he shoots.  You say kill, he kills.  You say go get this thing, he gets it.  It’s how his brain works.”</p><p>“What did Ahzrukhal do to him to make him so afraid of stepping out of line?”</p><p>Willow laughed.  “You think <em>Ahzrukhal</em> did that to him?  Hah, as if.  Ahzrukhal couldn’t have done that to Charon if he wanted to; he was a lowlife snake but he wasn’t smart or powerful enough to do that kind of damage.  Nah, Charon was like that when he first got to Underworld something like twenty years ago.  I remember it.  Some bigshot smoothskin was here, spending caps like the world was gonna end again, and he had this ghoul bodyguard with him that was bigger than any of us had ever seen.  Smoothskin liked two things: booze, and showing off.  He drank all day and night at the Ninth Circle.  Christ, I don’t even wanna imagine how much money he handed over to Ahzrukhal.</p><p>“So the drunker he got, the more he bragged about his bodyguard and how he was the toughest fucker in the wastes.  Said that he was so loyal he’d shoot anyone, anywhere, anytime, and all the guy had to do was point.  Best part?  He didn’t even need to pay him.  All he had to do was hold onto that little scrap of paper and Charon was loyal as a lapdog.”  The corner of her mouth pulled up in a rueful smile.  “I bet you can imagine how interested that made Ahzrukhal.”</p><p>Could she ever.</p><p>“Well I dunno how it happened; some say he spiked the guy’s drink, others say he just kept the booze coming ‘till the guy was so drunk he didn’t even know his name.  I dunno what happened, but the next morning the smoothskin was out on the front steps with his head blown in, and Charon made a home in that corner of the bar you found him in. Ahzrukhal had a <em>lot</em> of fun watching him throw Patchwork out on his ass.”</p><p>Leah’s stomach lurched.  It wasn’t a comfort to know that Charon’s two most recent ex-employers had both ended up at the business end of his gun.</p><p>“You know the rule of his contract, yeah?” Willow continued.  “No physical violence or he’s free to kick your ass? Well, Ahzrukhal found other ways to punish him for not doing a good enough job.  Withheld food, water, even made him stand in that corner for days without sleep.  Ghouls are pretty hardy, Charon more so than most of us, but that’s still some pretty sick stuff.  At some point Ahzrukhal decided he wasn’t allowed to talk to us, either.  Just had to direct anyone who tried back to him.”</p><p>“So that’s why he wouldn’t talk to me when I tried to introduce myself.”</p><p>Willow nodded.  “Yeah, I should have warned you about that.  Sorry.  But between you’n me, I don’t think Charon was too far from going full feral.  I’d just let it happen if I were stuck in his position.”</p><p>Doc Barrows and Nurse Graves had hypothesized about something similar—that if a ghoul didn’t get enough socialization or interaction their mind began to shut down and succumb to the urges of a feral ghoul.  It had been such an interesting idea then, but now Leah wondered how much fear she should have for Charon’s thousand yard stares and unbreakable silences.</p><p>“Why didn’t he leave?” she whispered.  “You said yourself that Ahzrukhal wasn’t strong— why did he wait until I came along to shoot him?”</p><p>“What part of ‘brainwashed’ aren’t you getting, tourist?” Willow asked.  “Whoever holds his contract is basically God; they control him, they <em>own</em> him, and whatever part of his brain makes that true makes him protect them no matter how much he hates it.  If it was between you and his own mother, he’d have no choice but to protect you and let her die.  Hell, if you ordered him to kill her he’d have to do that.  Don’t believe me?  Fine.  Gimme the paper, I’ll show you.”</p><p>Leah would later reflect on how stupid of a decision it was for her to hand Charon’s contract over without so much as a question, but that was exactly what she did.  Willows long, gnarled fingers gripped the folded paper carefully at the exact moment that Charon came back through the doors.  He stopped halfway to handing Leah her drink, noticing that his employment had changed hands.</p><p>“Hand it over,” Willow said, indicating her beer.  He did, and did not move to give Leah either her drink or her change, so Willow took those, too.  She popped the top off of her drink, took a swig, and said, “Shoot one of those birds out of the sky for me.”</p><p>Charon’s response was automatic.  He lifted his gun, aimed, and with one shot downed a bird that had been flying overhead in the quickly darkening evening sky.  It fell to the ground several feet away, thoroughly dead.</p><p>“Shoot that post,” Willow said next.  When Charon did as commanded, she then ordered him to shoot a pile of rubble, an upended shopping cart, a radroach, and finally the ground.  Before he could ask what the point of any of that was, Charon’s new employer ordered, “Okay.  Now aim at her head.”</p><p>Staring down the barrel of Charon’s shotgun was, perhaps, one of the most terrifying experiences of Leah’s life.  His gaze was cold, vacant, and unfeeling, not in the slightest recognizing the person standing in front of him.  She was a target, nothing more.</p><p>“Charon..?”</p><p>“Now,” Willow said, “fire.”</p><p>It was by reflex that Leah flinched and closed her eyes as his finger closed around the trigger, praying for all the forgiveness she deserved and sorry for all the promises she hadn’t been able to keep. </p><p>But no bullet came.  She looked and Charon still stared down at her, cold and unfeeling, then relaxed his shotgun at his side and looked to Willow for more orders.  A wave of relief trailed after the panic and she shook from them both, the emotions so strong that she choked on a sob and wiped tears away from behind her glasses as Willow said, “Charon’s gun only holds five rounds.”</p><p>Leah stared at them both as she trembled and tried to relax her breathing, Willow sipping casually from her beer.</p><p>“If you weren’t out of ammo,” she said, “would you still have shot her?”</p><p>Charon nodded once.  “Yes.”</p><p>“And if I told you to go into Underworld and slaughter everyone inside, would you do it?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“Because you commanded me to.”</p><p>“And why would you listen to me?”</p><p>“Because you hold my contract.”</p><p>The sun had mostly set.  Willow’s face was illuminated by her lighter, then by the glowing end of her next cigarette.  In the dark the edges of her face were even sharper, harsh shadows cast by the point of her cheekbones.  She looked at Leah and shrugged.  “See, kid?  That’s just how it is.”</p><p>She tried to resist when Willow pressed the contract into her palm, protesting weakly, “I don’t want— Willow, I can’t <em>own</em>…”</p><p>“Some things are better if you don’t think about them, tourist,” she replied, curling Leah’s fingers over the paper.  “Take it.  It’ll do you more good than anyone here, and being with you’ll do Charon more good than being stuck here in Underworld to rot.”</p><p>The exchange gave her a lot to think about, and none of it pleasant.  She sat on her bed in the private double room Carol had insisted on giving the two of them after Leah basically begged to pay her for Charon’s sleeping arrangements, vault suit off and only in her shorts and t-shirt for sleeping.  After coming back from the diner with two meals, she had found Charon drinking voraciously from the bathroom sink, water dripping down his chin.  Thinking about it, Leah didn’t recall him having a single drink all day.  He hadn’t bought anything from Carol’s when she’d sent him inside, only bought a Nuka for her and a beer for Willow.  He’d never mentioned being thirsty or asked if he could buy something.  She’d never even thought to offer.</p><p>Neither said anything when he came out and spied a meal sitting on the end of his bed.  He just took it and began to eat.  Leah stared at her own plate.  She’d suddenly lost her appetite.</p><p>“Charon,” she said.  “I need to ask you a few questions about your contract.”</p><p>He looked towards her, chewing a mirelurk cake, and said nothing.</p><p>“Is there anyone you would trust it with?” she asked first.  “A friend, or… or family?”</p><p>“No.  If you no longer wish to have me in your service, you are free to sell or trade—”</p><p>“I know, I know,” she cut across.  “That’s not why I was asking.  I just…  Okay.  You said you can’t hold your own contract, right?”</p><p>“Correct.”</p><p>“Why not?”</p><p>“Because I can’t.”</p><p>“But why not?”</p><p>“<em>Because I can’t.</em>  It is a rule.”</p><p>“That’s not a reason!  Who’s making you <em>obe</em>y that rule?”</p><p>Charon was silent, either in contemplation or a stubborn refusal to answer.  Leah said softly, “You don’t have to obey your contract, Charon.  I won’t make—”</p><p>“Yes.  I do, smoothskin.  Saying that I don’t isn’t going to change anything.  I have to obey my contract; it’s just how things are.”  Whatever patience Charon had was running thing; that much was evident in his voice.  Leah sighed and decided to drop the issue.  </p><p>“Okay,” she conceded.  “That’s how things are.  I don’t get it, but I don’t get a lot of things so fine.  Next question.  Why did I catch you drinking from the tap a few minutes ago.”</p><p>Did he stiffen the smallest bit, or was she imagining that?  “My apologies, ma’am,” he said.  “I won’t do it again.”</p><p>There was a lot to unpack there.  “Okay, first, please don’t call me ma’am.  I’m only nineteen I don’t think anyone can qualify me as ‘ma’am’ except small children.”</p><p>Charon nodded.  “Very well, Mistress.”</p><p>All of Leah’s blood rushed to her face.  “<em>No</em>.  No.  Five different types of no.  That’s worse.”</p><p>He paused, then tried, “Boss?”</p><p>“I’ll take it.  Second— Charon, I’m not <em>mad</em>.  But if you’re thirsty why didn’t you tell me?  Why didn’t you buy something when I sent you inside earlier?”</p><p>“You did not order me to buy something for myself,” he said.  “You only ordered me to fetch drinks for you and for Willow, so I did as you commanded.  Most of my former employers did not wish to be bothered by my personal needs, so I do not voice them.”</p><p>“Is that the same reason I haven’t seen you sleep?”</p><p>He nodded.  “Ahzrukhal would not allow me to sleep when I had upset him.  When he died, I was under orders to stay awake until instructed otherwise.  Since you have not given me an order as to whether or not I may rest, I defaulted to my previous orders.”  Finally, he looked at her, expression completely unbothered.  “I’m used to it.  It does not impact my ability to protect you.  Ghouls can function on very small amounts of nutrition and sleep, especially if there is radiation nearby to heal us.  My training also prepared me to survive on very little.  I am still perfectly able to protect you.”</p><p>Leah rubbed her face with a groan.  “Okay— okay <em>no</em>.  If you’re tired and you need to rest, tell me.  Okay?  And if we’re somewhere safe like here or Rivet City you don’t have to… you don’t have to stay up all night standing guard.  I appreciate you wanting to keep me safe but I’m not gonna have you depriving yourself of sleep for it.  Same with food and water!  I don’t want you starving yourself or trying to sneak a drink in when I’m not looking; just <em>tell</em> me!  What’s mine is yours when it comes to food.  Got it?”</p><p>“Hmph.”  Charon nodded.  “Very well.  This may take some adjusting to, but if that is what you wish I will do as you command.</p><p>“Okay, see, now that’s the other thing.”  She adjusted herself on the bed, swinging her legs over the edge to fully turn her body towards Charon and look at him.  “Charon, I’ve only been out of the vault a little while.  I don’t know what I’m doing.  So if you have an idea, or I’m doing something stupid, or you can think of a better way to do what we’re doing, speak up.  Heck, if I tell you to do something and you think it’s a bad idea, tell me!  I don’t wanna make your job harder or get you hurt because I have no idea how to survive out here.”  She paused.  “Are you quiet because you don’t talk much, or because something in your contract tells you to be?”</p><p>“Most employers have preferred me to be quiet and not speak unless necessary.  Ahzrukhal in particular ordered me not to speak to others apart from directing them to him.  I am not opposed to conversation, and will provide it if you wish.”</p><p>“Only if that’s what you wish, too.  And you don’t have to be afraid of what you’ll say around me, Charon.  I won’t punish you for speaking your mind.”</p><p>Charon eyed her warily.  “I may speak freely in front of you?”</p><p>“You’re <em>encouraged</em> to.”</p><p>“Hm.”  He looked down at his plate, only half finished as his mouth had been preoccupied with conversation.  A bit of mirelurk cake was stabbed by the end of his fork and he nodded.  “Okay.”</p><p>Leah smiled.  Alright.  Progress.</p><p>She watched him for a few minutes, seeing how his gnarled, ruined fingers gripped his silverware with ease despite the numbness she could only assume he felt in the patches where skin gave way to exposed muscle.  His left middle finger was missing its nail, and his right ring seemed to be more scar tissue than skin.  He was so large that if he gripped her by the wrist his fingers would have slid past each other before the grip was even tight.</p><p>Leah turned back to her own meal.  “Did you have your contract before you became a ghoul?” she asked, now only to satisfy her curiosity.</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“How long have you had it?”</p><p>It took him a moment to think.  “Just under two hundred years.  And yes—” he looked to Leah, who had begun to open her mouth for another question, “—I was born before the war.  No, I don’t want to talk about it.”</p><p>Some silence passed between them.</p><p>“…How many employers have you had?”</p><p>Charon shrugged.  “Couple dozen.”</p><p>“Were they all as bad as Ahzrukhal?”</p><p>“Nah.  He was worse than most.”</p><p>“Most?”</p><p>He glanced up.  “I’ve seen a lot of bad shit, smoothskin.”</p><p>That was an issue Leah wisely chose not to press.</p><p>“Any good ones?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“No?”</p><p>“Maybe they start out nice,” he admitted, “but it doesn’t last.  It never does.  Maybe they have a farm that they need help tending, or a house with a family in it that needs protecting.  Maybe they’re old as dirt, or maybe they’re a real pretty young smoothskin like you.  Doesn’t matter.  In the end I’m a shield, or a bargaining chip, or a prize for the highest bidder.  That’s always how it goes.”</p><p>He didn’t even sound sad or angry as he spoke, just completely matter of fact.  Leah sank into herself a little.  Would it be right to apologize?</p><p>Charon made that decision for her when he continued with, “So don’t think you’re any different just because you’re trying to be nice.  When you’ve only got enough food for one of us, or when I’m the only thing between your brain and a bullet, you’ll make your choice.”</p><p>“Hey, that’s not—”</p><p>“I can speak openly around you?  Okay.  You’re not special, smoothskin.  I’ve had a half dozen other employers just as bright eyed and hopeful as you, and each one turned into one hell of a bastard when it came down to it.  Convince yourself you’re doing me a favor for as long as you want, but I know where I stand.”</p><p>Still, not a trace of anger or hatred colored his voice.  Only resignation.  Reluctant exhaustion.  When Leah looked at him, for the first time she didn’t see an intimidating 6’8” ghoul with a shotgun, but a man who had spent the last two hundred years under the orders of people who didn’t care about him, who couldn’t have cared less if he was hungry or injured or exhausted so long as he could be their shield.  She saw cynicism and apathy borne from necessity, because how much would it have hurt to go day after day hoping someone better would come along just to go from one awful person to the next?</p><p>Leah shook her head.  “You’re wrong.  I am different.  I’ll be different.”</p><p>Charon only shrugged.  “Sure, smoothskin.  Tell yourself that.”</p><p>Leah had once or twice heard someone reference creatures called ‘centaurs’ while speaking of the monsters of the wastes, but she had thought little of them.  Brahmin were mutated cows, mirelurks were mutated crabs (or snapping turtles; she and Moira disagreed on that point), so centaurs were most likely mutated horses.  Horrifying, no doubt, but how much damage could something like that really do?</p><p>She found out halfway between Underworld and Megaton, just outside of the edges of the downtown DC ruins, when one snuck up behind her, wrapped one of its tentacle-like tongues around her ankle, and dragged her back towards it.  Her scream alerted Charon, who turned around just in time to see a second acid-dripping tongue wind its way around her midsection and lift her from the ground.  This was when Leah got her first real look at the thing, a monstrous amalgamation of limbs and orifices that wouldn’t have been out of place in a Lovecraft work. </p><p>It walked on six legs with human hands for feet, its knees sharp and pointed and sticking in different directions.  Along its chest poked bits of bone, tooth-like in shape, making the torso resemble a gaping maw.  Bones protruded from shoulders where arms should have been but never formed, and it was bald with a human-like face and pale, translucent skin that exposed every vein and capillary to inspection.  From its mouth lashed three impossibly long tongues, the one not actively restraining Leah searching for a good place to hold on.</p><p>It decided on her arm, but she didn’t have time to be thankful that it wasn’t her neck because the ground came at her hard and fast when the centaur slammed her down onto it.  Then it lifted her and slammed her down again, throwing her bodily against a nearby rock with such force that the wind was knocked from her lungs.  The fire of Charon’s shotgun was distant and swam around in her head with all the other strange noises of the wastes.  The centaur ambled towards her again, this time wrapping one tongue around her arm and another around her neck and throwing her as far as it could so that she crumpled into a heap.  Something snapped deep in her left leg but without air in her lungs she couldn’t even scream.  A shattered bolt of lightning raced up and down her leg and even the adrenaline of being attacked by that absolute abomination of nature or science or <em>whatever</em> couldn’t numb it.  Leah scrambled to turn over and pull her gun from her hip but even the thought of movement drove a thousand needles directly into marrow.</p><p>Shots and the general sound of gore splattering supplanted the shuffling of the centaur’s hellish hand-feet, and suddenly  Charon was by her side.</p><p>“Can you move?” he asked, and she shook her head.</p><p>“Broken—” she gasped, “leg— broken— I can’t—”  </p><p>She tried to relax, tried to breathe in, but her poor diaphragm remained paralyzed and the screaming agony of her leg was no help.</p><p>“May I touch you?”</p><p>Leah was so struck by the question that for a moment she forgot to be afraid.  “Wh-”</p><p>“In the memorial, you instructed me not to touch you.  But if you want help, I will have to do so.”</p><p>Oh.</p><p>She nodded.  Charon immediately set his palm against her shin and a breathless, soundless scream tore from her throat at even that gentle pressure.</p><p>“Do you— do you have— medical training?” she asked, relieved when Charon nodded in the affirmative.  “We’ll need to set my— set my leg— until we can get to Megaton.  There’s— scissors— there’s scissors in my pack—”</p><p>Charon was way ahead of her.  From somewhere on his person he had pulled a large hunting knife and with it he sliced skillfully down the length of her left pant leg.  The parted fabric let her see the extent of the damage, but on everything that was holy she wished that she hadn’t.</p><p>Her left foot fell outwards at an awkward, unnatural angle.  Something near the middle of her shin was poking up, trying to force its way out of her skin, and her stomach did not much like the knowledge that it was her bone.</p><p>Her breath was coming back to her slowly, but the panic rising in her gut made it shallow.  She tried to calm down, to focus on happy thoughts, to do any of the things she would have told someone else to do in the same situation, but at the moment she could barely even think of them.  Fear of the centaur was quickly transforming into panic over her injury and terror of the pain.</p><p>“There’s a— a medkit in the bottom of my bag,” she bit as Charon stowed his knife away in his boot, pauses now coming as she took deep breaths and clenched her teeth to fight off the throbbing.  “Fell off of me— fell off of me when I landed.  Should be bandages— <em>oh god</em> and some Med-X—!”</p><p>He was already pushing the plunger of the syringe, and a cool numbness began to replace the pain enough so that she could think.</p><p>“Have you set a bone before?” she asked as he pulled rolls of clean bandages from her medbag.</p><p>“Would it matter if I hadn’t?”</p><p>No, she supposed it wouldn’t.</p><p>“Charon… before you start, um… would you hand me my teddy, please?”</p><p>He did.  Leah pressed it to her face and inhaled the familiar scent of home, now mingling with a bit of rust and blood and a good amount of dirt.</p><p>“This is going to hurt,” Charon advised.  “Are you ready?”</p><p>“N-”</p><p>Her own scream cut her off, scaring a nearby bird into flight even as she bit down onto Teddy’s stomach to muffle it.  Unable to bear the sight of Charon manipulating her mangled leg she squeezed her eyes shut and threw one arm over them, the other scrabbling at the dirt and she distracted herself with the disgusting, grainy feeling of rough dirt beneath her fingernails.  It worked, but only until the pressure of his fingers shifted to the lower part of her leg and suddenly the pain was all the way up her spine, collecting in her throat and swirling in her stomach and making star-bursts behind her eyes.</p><p>By the time he finished wrapping her leg securely in bandages, Leah’s face was red and shiny with tears and sweat.  The break was equal parts numb and throbbing, other aches and pains beginning to surface as the rest of her body got its turn to complain.  A bruise on her shoulder from where it hit the rock, a throb in her hips from being slammed against the ground, a headache from the probable concussion.</p><p>Charon carried her the rest of the way to town piggyback style, her arms wrapped around his neck and her legs supported by a strong grip under her knees.  His pack jostled against her over his shoulder and his gun was in hand, but all in all he seemed only slightly inconvenienced.</p><p>“You’re really strong,” she observed as Megaton appeared on the horizon, a speck of grey against a backdrop of brown.</p><p>“Comes with the job.”</p><p>“Hm.”  She rested her chin against his shoulder.  “Thanks for saving me.”</p><p>“It is my duty to protect you.”</p><p>“I can still say thanks.  I’m thankful.  If it wasn’t for you I’d probably still be waiting for Quinn to get back to Underworld.”</p><p>Leah could have sworn she felt Charon chuckle, but such a thing seemed so impossible that she wrote it off as pure imagination.  “I’d still be waiting there, too.”</p><p>“Look at us,” she grinned, “the ‘Got Out of Underworld’ squad.”</p><p>A gust of wind whipped up the dust around them.  Leah closed her eyes and reflexively buried her face into Charon’s neck.  The skin against her forehead and cheek was rough and hard, giving way in places to pockets of exposed musculature that she could feel moving and shifting as he walked.  It was impossible to not be curious about it, about ghouls in general.  Radiation made them that way but why?  Did it hurt?  What did it feel like to have muscle exposed to open air the way it was?</p><p>“Nearly there,” Charon said, breaking Leah from her quiet contemplation.  A raised gaze revealed the gates of Megaton much closer than they had been.  “Shouldn’t be long now.”</p><p>“Already?”</p><p>“Walking’s a lot faster without you trailing behind.”</p><p>“I have short legs!”</p><p>Okay, now that was <em>definitely</em> a chuckle.  Leah hid her surprise against his shoulder, feigning the need to keep more dust out of her eyes.</p><p>Doc Church wasn’t impressed by the job Charon had done on her leg, but he rarely seemed impressed by anything so this wasn’t a surprise.  His portable x-ray machine was a glitchy bit of pre-war tech about the size of a book with a large crack running down the screen.  He waved it over her leg and [hmmm]’d thoughtfully at the image it showed.</p><p>“Good enough,” he decided, and moved to make a plaster cast to keep her leg in place instead of the flimsy bandages with which they had made do.</p><p>“It’ll be awhile before you’re back on your feet, literally and metaphorically speaking,” he said.  “The healing will be faster if you apply stimpacks but don’t use more than three a day at regular intervals.  The last thing we want is to encourage any cancerous growth, and with all the radiation you see in a day that’s already a risk you run.  Worst case scenario you’re stuck here for a month or two.  Best case, maybe a couple of weeks.”</p><p>“A couple of weeks?!” Leah exclaimed.  “But I have to—”</p><p>“You heard me.  You shouldn’t even be walking on the damn thing, so I’ll give you some old crutches for free if you promise to bring them back.”  He glanced at Charon.  “Unless you’re gonna carry her the whole time.  With how this town’s laid out you’ll probably end up doing that anyway.”</p><p>As Leah was contemplating this terrible run of luck, Sheriff Lucas Simms walked through the doors.  He made a quick greeting to the doctor and, when his eyes landed on Leah, laughed as a wide grin made itself at home on her face.</p><p>“Well,” he said, his voice as clear and warm as the first time she had heard it, “hello there, Leah, and welcome back to Megaton.”</p><p>“Sheriff!”</p><p>He crossed the room and patted her on the shoulder.  “It’s good to see you again so soon.  Y’know, the folks around here have been worried about you.  Jericho came back a day after you two left saying how he’d lost you down in the tunnels.  Good to see you made it out alright.”</p><p>The line of Leah’s shoulders tensed.  “He, yeah… it— it’s good to be back!  Sorry to make everyone worry.  But, uh— how are <em>you?”</em></p><p>“Walking and talking.  I’m honestly good as new, if you don’t count the scar.”  His fingers ran down his throat as he talked, tracing the edges of an angry, gnarled scar that marked where the bullet had torn through.  “Doc Church asks me to come by here every day just to get it checked up and make sure nothing’s torn but so far so good.”</p><p>“I’m so glad to hear that,” she smiled.  </p><p>“The town owes you a lot of thanks; nobody more than me.  In fact, I was really hopin’ to see you.  Got a little bit of a thank you gift to deliver.”</p><p>The gift was not little.</p><p>A house.  Sheriff Simms gifted her her own, permanent house right there in Megaton.  It was near the entrance, to the left of the gate and just before the terrain sloped downward into the crater.  Kept steady on a metal platform jutting out of the earth, it was made out of sheet metal bolted together and supported by iron beams, just like everything else in the city.  Small holes let sunlight through where rust had eaten away at the metal, but it was altogether an impressive structure.  Electricity lit every room: a living area, kitchen, and bathroom on the main floor, then two bedrooms up above.  It was even furnished.</p><p>“It’s been sitting empty for a while now,” Simms explained as Leah and Charon entered behind him.  “I know you’re out there looking for your daddy’n all, but everyone needs a place to call their own.  If you manage to find him, he’ll be welcome here just like you are.  Moira was nice enough to furnish the place, and if you need anything else for it she’s your girl.  Oh, and before I forget—”</p><p>A large piece of pre-war machinery took up the wall adjacent to the door and in front of the steps to the second floor.  Simms pressed a series of buttons on a control console, then banged on it a little until it came to life.  From upstairs came a familiar mechanical whirring and the soft hum of air propulsion, and Leah knew what was going to descend the stairs before it even came into view.</p><p>“Good afternoon, sirs and madam,” said the Mr. Handy. “My name is Wadsworth.  How may I assist you today?</p><p>“He’s a bit of an older model,” said Simms while Leah gaped, “but he works just fine.  Moira’s been tinkerin’ around with him for a few months and I convinced her to give it to you as part of the welcome package.”</p><p>Leah’s reluctance to closely handle anything that Moira had tinkered with was blown out of the water by the fact that she not only had a house but a house with a <em>personal Mr. Handy</em>.</p><p>“I… I can’t accept this,” she insisted.  “I’m touched— I’m <em>honored</em>] but Sheriff—”</p><p>“No buts.”  He closed her hand around the house’s key.  “It’s yours now, official’n everything.  Use it as much as little or you like, but it’s yours.  I owe you my life, Miss Leah, and Megaton owes you a great deal of thanks.  This is the least we can do.”</p><p>It was rude to refuse a gift, even one that felt much too extravagant for her, so Leah nodded and accepted the key.  “Thank you, sir.  I really can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”</p><p>“Well I’m glad.  Onto some other business, though.”  He turned to Charon.  “Who might you be?”</p><p>Charon didn’t answer.  Instead, he looked to Leah, who after a quick pulse of panic offered, “This is Charon, Sheriff.  He’s the bodyguard I hired after Jericho… lost me.  He won’t be any trouble.”</p><p>“I think the man can answer for himself,” Simms cut across, not unkindly, gaze still fixed on the ghoul.  “Charon, I’m Lucas Simms, and as you’ve probably already guessed I’m the sheriff here in Megtaon, and the mayor when the situation calls for it.  We’re a quiet little settlement, but that’s because we’re not afraid to chase out anyone who causes us trouble.  You behave yourself and we’ll get along just fine.  Understand?”</p><p>It was a sterner version of the same speech he had given Leah upon her first entrance into town.  Charon’s gaze flicked again over to Leah, who nodded feverishly.</p><p>“I understand,” he said.</p><p>“Good to hear.  In that case, welcome to Megaton.  You protect this young lady all you can or you’ll have a town full of very upset folk to deal with.”</p><p>Simms saw himself out after that, citing a need to return to his daily patrol.  Leah thanked him again and again until he closed the door, only then fully taking in her surroundings.</p><p>“A house,” she said to herself in disbelief.  “He gave me a <em>house</em>!”  No more public house!  No more getting there early to hog a set of sheets or a pillow!  No more hoping that the lock on the door worked and a stranger wouldn’t barge into the room while she was in the middle of a shower!</p><p>“Very convenient,” Charon observed, “especially now that you cannot leave the town until your leg has healed.”</p><p>“Who says that I can’t?  Doc Church just <em>recommended</em> that I—”</p><p>“It is my job to keep you safe,” he reminded.  “You’ve asked me to speak freely and tell you if your ideas are bad, and I’m telling you that venturing back out into the wastes in your condition would be foolish and for both of our safeties you should stay within Megaton.”</p><p>“But— but I need to go—”</p><p>“You are searching for your father, correct?  Would he not prefer you to remain here where you are safe until you can heal, rather than chasing after him and risking your wellbeing?” </p><p>She flopped gracelessly onto the sofa that took up a good chunk of the living area.  It was refurbished and showed no current signs of wear and tear.  “He left me in the vault,” she said by way of an answer.  “Of course that’s what he’d want.”  </p><p>Seeing that Chargon was still standing by the door, both of their bags and his weapon in hand, Leah said, “You don’t have to just stand there.  This is my house now, and since you’re my…” she searched her vocabulary for an appropriate word, “…companion, then it’s yours, too.  Make yourself at home here, okay?  We’re safe in Megaton; you don’t have to keep your guard up.”</p><p>Charon dropped her own bag next to her on the sofa and settled his own possessions near a metal locker in the corner, but did not sit down.  “I’m sure that’s what the Sheriff thought before a bullet tore open his throat.”</p><p>“How did you—”</p><p>“I’ve seen a lot of bullet wounds, smoothskin.  I’m pretty familiar.”</p><p>The house needed a fair bit of dusting, and some of the hinges were rusting off of the storage lockers, but Simms and Moira had been so kind as to stock the working refrigerator in the kitchen, and Wadsworth was already busying his circuits cleaning the house.  Leah fiddled around with the provided radio until she found the frequency for GNR, then propped her leg up onto the coffee table and rested like Doc Church had ordered.</p><p>“Wadsworth,” she called to the robotic butler, who came at her request.  “What model are you?”</p><p>“I am a third generation model Mister Handy household butler, madame.”</p><p>“Do you have any modifications or upgrades?”</p><p>“I’m afraid not, but I am a perfectly functional Mr. Handy all the same.  I will keep the house clean and tidy so that you and the master of the house may relax.”</p><p>Leah giggled.  “Hear that, Charon?  You’re the master of the house.”</p><p>Charon, who was inspecting the contents of one of the lockers, grunted in response.</p><p>“I am also capable of cooking meals and performing tasks such as fetching groceries and taking care of household pets.  As well as this, I can cut and style your or the master’s hair, and give him a perfectly close shave if either of you so desire.”  He paused.  “Then again, I suppose he has no need for such a thing.  My apologies, sir.”</p><p>Leah giggled again, practically able to hear the rolling of Charon’s eyes.</p><p>“Thank you, Wadsworth.  We’re very happy to have you here.”</p><p>“My pleasure, madam!  I say, it appears to be nearly dinner time.  Would you like me to prepare a meal?”</p><p>“No, thank you.  If it’s not too much trouble, could you make sure both of the beds upstairs are made?”</p><p>“Yes, madam, I shall do so immediately.”</p><p>“Thank you!”</p><p>Wadsworth glided back up the steps with the effortlessness only a floating robot could achieve.  Leah still didn’t feel <em>good</em> about having to stay in Megaton for who knows how long while her father ran around everywhere but there chasing his dreams, but the prospect of sleeping every night in a bed that was hers and only hers and had pillows and sheets and [blankets] was one of the most appealing things she had heard since leaving the vault.  She could take a long shower, wash her clothes, even just wear shorts and a tank top if she didn’t feel like leaving the house.  Her jumpsuit was comfortable and good for traveling, but where it had once fit her like a second skin it was beginning to feel too snug in some places and not snug enough in others.  Wadsworth would be able to sew up the pant leg; maybe he could adjust the fit, too.</p><p>But all of that could wait.  Afternoon was making way for evening, and Leah was fairly sure that if she didn’t eat something soon she would implode.</p><p>Charon carried her down to the Brass Lantern and sat her carefully onto one of the stools before taking one for himself.  The stares of curious Megaton residents didn’t phase him in the least, but Leah still did her best to deflect them with a smile and a, “Nice to see you again.”  When Leo Stahl came out to take their orders Leah got the brahmin steak and a side of mashed potatoes, which were just instamash but something Jenny did to them just made them a hundred times better.  Then she turned to Charon and said, “Order whatever you like, okay?  However much you like.”</p><p>The little smirk that pulled at the corner of his mouth was excitingly new and gone as soon as she noticed it.  “You might regret that one, boss.  I’m starving.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Comments are an author's best friend &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. There's Bound to be a Ghost at the Back of your Closet</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jericho.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Moira was troubled to hear about Leah’s mishap with the malfunctioning Stealth Boy when she hobbled in a few days later on her crutches, but was vastly more interested in the broken leg.  </p><p>“Oh, I wish I’d gotten to you when it was fresh!” she said, tracing excitedly over the lines of the cast.  “Tell me all about it: how did it break?  What did you do until you could get here?  Any recommendations for the average wastelander?  It’s for the book— spare no details!”</p><p>Leah answered all the questions with the knowledge and good humor of a doctor’s daughter, making the very stern recommendation not to attempt the resetting of one’s own bones unless aided by someone with medical knowledge.   “Because having to rebreak it again later to properly set it will be even worse.  No amount of Med-X will completely numb it.”  Moira scribbled everything down onto her notepad so fast that Leah worried about the page catching fire.</p><p>“What wonderful information!” she clapped, then waving her hands in front of her happily, which Leah liked because she often did the same thing.  Moira was quite possibly the first person Leah had ever met who saw the world in a similar way to her, and while the rest of the town saw a strange eccentric, Leah took comfort in their shared idiosyncrasies.  </p><p>“The book is <em>really</em> coming along thanks to you!” she said.  “Sorry you had to get your leg broken, but it’s all in the name of science.  Those gosh darn centaurs sure are a nuisance, though; if only there was a way to repel them…”</p><p>Considering Moira’s last “what if we could repel this creature?” experiment had resulted in the exploded heads of molerats all over Leah’s clothes, she wisely chose to not encourage this train of thought.  Not to mention the fact that if she had to get within melee range of one of those things she wasn’t going to try it no matter how many caps Moira offered.</p><p>“Oh well!  I know we’re all happy to have you back in town for a little while, and you even brought a friend!”</p><p>Charon was as unmoved by Moira’s cheeriness as he was by most things.  If anything, he seemed to be connecting mentally with the merc Moira hired to watch over the shop.  Leah didn’t know his name, but he leaned against one of the walls and looked generally intimidating and annoyed.  </p><p>…Was that most of a bodyguard’s job description?  If so, then Charon really was a cut above the rest.</p><p>“This is Charon,” she eventually said when the ghoul made no attempt to introduce himself.  “We met over in Underworld.”</p><p>“Ooh, what an interesting name!  I’m Moira Brown; welcome to Megaton!”</p><p>Charon made no response or movement to shake the hand extended to him.</p><p>“He… doesn’t talk much.”</p><p>“Oh that’s okay.  Glad to meet you anyway, Charon!  I’m here for all your needs, so long as those needs are weapon or clothing based.   I even have some armor that should fit you, big guy!”</p><p>Leah looked at him.  “Do you need new armor?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>She paused, rephrasing the question.  “Is your armor old or damaged or falling apart?  Would getting you new armor help you be safer?”</p><p>Charon hesitated before answering.  “…Yes.”</p><p>“Alright, Moira; see what you’ve got.”</p><p>Since Megaton was made up of steep hills and slippery ramps functioning as walkways, she had taken to piggybacking on Charon for most journeys across down. Only once they reached their destination would he set her down and let her handle her own transport on the borrowed crutches from Doc Church.  She smiled warmly at anyone who happened to stare, hoping to mitigate any fear or reluctance the townspeople would have about Charon, or at least keep them from drawing weapons.</p><p>“You’re not very talkative,” she said to him as they made their way up to Moriarty’s.  The platform creaked a little bit under their combined weight but held steady.  Leah remembered how afraid she had been of the old platforms, so thin and rusty that there was no <em>wa</em>y they could support someone’s weight.  But they had proved her wrong; as hodgepodge as the city seemed, it was built and maintained by careful, steady hands.  “I told you you can speak freely, right?”</p><p>“You said that I may speak freely with you,” he clarified.  “You gave me no orders regarding my conduct with others.  Ahzrukhal did not want me speaking to others outside of directing them to him, and many of my previous employers wished for similar treatment.  Is that not acceptable?”</p><p>Leah could have hit herself if her arms weren’t hanging around Charon’s neck.  “Right.  I forgot, sorry.  You can forget that order, okay?  Talk to whoever you want.  You don’t have to wait for me to give you permission.”  She frowned.  “Is that why you didn’t say anything when those Church of Atom worshipers were bothering you?”  When they had earlier passed by the atomic bomb where worshipers went to pray, several believers had flocked to Charon’s side, exclaiming how fortunate he was to have been “blessed by Atom’s glow” and trying to shake his hand or grab his arm.  It had made Leah uncomfortable enough for the both of them and she asked them to please move so they could keep on their way but she was surprised at the time that Charon hadn’t spoken up about it.</p><p>“I don’t know what I wanted to say to them,” he said, and Leah felt him shrug.  “You get a pretty thick skin to hostility when you look like me, but I’ve met a few other Atom weirdos in my life and I never know how to feel.  They wouldn’t think I’m so lucky if they turned into ghouls themselves.”</p><p>Leah sat with that thought until he settled her down onto the platform in front of the bar, ducking below the door frame as he entered behind her.</p><p>“Well, look what the molerat dragged in,” Nova laughed.  “Good to see you kid.  And mostly in one piece, too.”</p><p>Leah laughed and pulled herself up onto a stool.  Charon sat in an empty seat on her right.  The couple of other patrons scattered about the bar gave him glances of equal parts surprise and suspicion.</p><p>“I knew what Jericho said about you getting eaten by ferals was bullshit,” Nova continued.  “You’re made of tougher stuff than that.  Look at you!  Strolling back in here with a broken foot and a new look.”  She ran a couple of slender fingers through Leah’s hair with a smile.  “It’s a good one, too.  Suits you.”</p><p>She rounded on Charon, then, settling a hand on his arm as a way of introduction.  It had taken some convincing, but the stoic ghoul had been persuaded to forgo his armor and go about town in only civilian clothes, though his shotgun remained at his back and his hunting knife hidden in his boot.  Leah couldn’t help but think he looked even more intimidating this way, with no breastplate or shoulder pads to disguise his inherent strength.  </p><p>“I’m Nova,” she said.  “Talk to me if you’re looking for a good time during your stay here in Megaton.”</p><p>The flat and immediate, “Not interested,” from her bodyguard was so harsh that Leah blushed from secondhand embarrassment, but Nova only laughed; bright and amused.</p><p>“Fair enough,” she said.  “I respect a guy who knows what he wants, and even more so a guy who knows what he doesn’t.”</p><p>Conversation flowed well after that.  Nova and Gob filled her in on the town gossip, she told them all she had learned about her father.  Gob recognized Charon from his time living in Underworld and was surprised but not upset to learn about Ahzrukhal’s passing, and Leah told him that he needed to write Carol because she missed him to the point of tears.</p><p>“I’ll… try to find the time,” he said.  “Send it out with some traders going that way.”</p><p>More customers trickled in as hours went by, enticed by the music flowing in clearly through the radio.  Leah ordered a Nuka-Cola and Charon a beer and they chatted with Gob when Nova went upstairs to work.  Jericho stalked in as evening made way to night.  He leaned against the bar with a stance betraying his readiness for a fight, and when his eyes landed on Charon’s massive frame he sneered.</p><p>“Another fuckin’ zombie?” he asked no one in particular, though Leah was the closest person to him.  “Simms is really letting this town go to shit.”</p><p>The sleeve of his coat brushed her arm and she flinched away, which seemed to be the first time Jericho actively took notice of her existence since entering.</p><p>“Well holy fuckin’ shit,” he said.  “You really are back.  I thought Simms was talkin’ out of his ass; thought there was no way you made it all the way back here without me.  Didn’t recognize you without all that hair, and outta that jumpsuit, too!  Damn, people can see what you look like now.”</p><p>Leah’s vault suit was at home, drying after a much needed wash.  She wore instead a pair of jeans and a t-shirt bought from Moira, and although the clothing was as modest as her normal wear, beneath Jericho’s leering gaze she felt much too naked to be in public.  He reached up to stroke a strand of her hair like Nova had but she flinched away again.  His nose had healed crooked from here she had broken it.</p><p>“Hi, Jericho.”</p><p>“And a nice to see you, too.”  He turned back to the bar and slammed his fist down on it. “Hey, zombie!  C’mon, where the hell’ my drink?!”</p><p>Gob winced.  “Thirteen caps, please.”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, just put it on my tab.”</p><p>“Uh… Moriarty said not to put things on your tab anymore… says it’s gotten too high…”</p><p>“Bullshit!”  He pounded the counter again.  “He knows I’m good for it!  Now gimme my drink before I knock your head in, damn shuffler!”</p><p>“Not until you pay your caps,” said Moriarty, coming out of his room for the first time that evening.  He was hungover and bleary-eyed, rubbing his face with one hand.  “You’ve got a tab of a hundred and twenty-six caps you owe me, Jericho.  Anything else you want you gotta pay up front; this is a business, after all.”</p><p>Jericho spat more insults and curses than Leah knew existed, almost all of them directed at Gob, but dug through his pockets and dropped the required currency onto the counter.  Gob counted it, filled the drink, and slid it across the bar.</p><p>“Enjoy,” he said quietly.</p><p>Leah scooted her stool a tiny bit towards Charon and away from Jericho, who didn’t seem to notice as he downed his whiskey.  Moriarty surveyed the scene, eyes sweeping over the patrons of his business until landing on Charon.  The furrow of his brow well indicated that it was not a happy sort of surprise he felt to see him there, but when he noticed the new ghoul clutching a beer in one massive hand he apparently decided to leave well enough alone.  Instead he turned his attention to Leah.</p><p>“Well, our little vaultie returns to us,” he said.  “Looks like you took a bit of a tumble there, las.  Search for daddy not going so well?  Such a shame.”</p><p>Siding with her more fearful judgment, she smiled.  “It's going alright.  Nice to be back in town, though.”</p><p>Moriarty nodded.  “Good to see you, too.  And your friend.”  He nodded towards their hands, set beside each other on the bar, each grasping their drinks.  “Drink up, lass.  You know we’ve got plenty more where that came from.”</p><p>She tried to stay close to Charon and away from the increasingly drunk Jericho, making conversation with Gob during the times he wasn’t making drinks or cleaning.  Moriarty’s eye was watchful, and when Leah’s Nuka-Cola was drained she made sure to order a second and another beer for her companion.</p><p>Jericho downed his second glass of whiskey as quick as his first, slamming it down onto the counter so hard that a glass tumbled over the edge and shattered at Gob’s feet.</p><p>“You’ll be payin’ for that, Jericho,'' assured Moriarty in his softly lilting voice, tone not betraying the cool anger on his face.  The only reason he made no threats when the old merc gave him the finger was because he threw a handful of caps onto the counter as he did it, already ordering his next drink as Gob rushed to sweep up the broken glass.</p><p>“Goddamn zombie,” he slurred, now leaning so heavily on the bar that Leah feared his stool would slide out from under him.  “Can’t fuckin’… can’t fuckin’ do anything right…”</p><p>“Gob’s doing his best,” said Leah quietly before she could stop herself.  “Leave him alone.”</p><p>“Huh?”  Jericho turned with a grimace.  “What’d you say?”</p><p>Something inside of her—probably the more rational part of her mind—begged her to stay quiet, to pretend she had said nothing at all and let him sink back into an alcoholic semi-stupor.  But the damage was already done.</p><p>“Leave him alone,” she repeated, unable to look away from the bar as her heart raced and her hands shook around her glass.  “He’s doing the best that he can.”</p><p>Jericho’s gaze was a force against the side of her head.  The liquor on his hot, sticky breath wafted into her face and she scrunched her nose up in disgust, but he only leaned in closer.</p><p>“Nearly forgot you’re Megaton’s resident ghoulfucker,” he spat.  “What?  Don’t want someone talking bad about him around you?  That’s your fault for hooking up with a corpse.”</p><p>That again.  Leah’s shoulders hunched, her head bowed.  “I’m not— Gob and I aren’t—”</p><p>“What, you ditch him for big’n ugly there?”  He pointed plainly to Charon.  “Man, you’re one fucked up bitch, getting in bed with something like that.  What, first one wasn’t rotten enough for you so you went and found yourself the biggest, ugliest fucker you could find?”</p><p>She wanted to argue and tell him none of this was what he thought it was but her tongue turned to cotton in her mouth the second she felt a hand snake around her waist.  Two dirty, calloused fingers played at the inch of skin exposed between the hem of her shirt and the waistband of her jeans.</p><p>“Well Nova’s busy… how about you keep me company instead?  Wouldn’t it be nice to fuck someone whose dick is still in tact?  If you’ll fuck a ghoul I bet you’re into all kinds of messed up kinky shit, and I don’t even gotta pay for you.  C’mon.”</p><p>He tugged her by the waist hard enough to almost pull her from her seat.  Reflexively she grabbed at the counter to stay in place, but was otherwise locked inside herself with fear.  With her leg in the state that it was she couldn’t step down by herself, let alone run away.  Jericho’s hand moved up and under her shirt, leaving a filthy patch of dirt along her skin.  His face pressed against her temple, sickly breath filling her mouth and nose and lungs and she wanted to gag, to throw up against him if that would get him off of her.  One arm woke from its frightened stupor and she pushed at him but he was so much bigger and so much stronger.</p><p>“Don’t—”</p><p>“C’mon; you can make up for breaking my fucking nose down in the tunnels.”</p><p>His other hand rested against her leg and moved towards her inner thigh.</p><p>Was no one else seeing this?</p><p>Was no one else paying attention?</p><p>Did no one else care?</p><p>Of course they didn’t.  She could scream and cry and throw whatever kind of tantrum her own muddled mind demanded of her, and everyone else would just frown and roll their eyes, shove her off into a corner and tell her not to come out until she was done being silly.  The only people who ever tried to understand were back in the vault or in some nebulous “almost there” or dead.</p><p>Jericho’s breath was thick with tobacco and heavy with whiskey.  “Bet that innocent little face looks damn good when you’re on your knees.”</p><p>Words finally pulled themselves from her throat, a loud and fearful command of, “Don’t touch me!”</p><p>Charon’s fist connected with Jericho’s jaw so hard that it sent him toppling out of his seat and crashing to the ground.  Two yellow teeth rolled across the metal flooring until they hit the wall in bloody, stringy little heaps.  Her balance offset by the sudden loss of his weight on her side, Leah felt her chair tip but was saved from falling at the last moment by Charon’s other arm, which settled the feet of her stool safely on the ground.</p><p>Jericho groaned as he sat up, blood dribbling from his mouth.  He spat a wad of it onto the floor and bared red-stained teeth.  “Fucking… fucking shuffler!” he slurred.  “What?  Don’t want me… don’t want me talking to your girl?  You mother fucker!  I’m gonna… gonna fuckin’ kill you!”</p><p>Already slowed down by the alcohol, that knock to the head wasn’t doing him any favors.  Even sitting on the ground he was swaying, head lolling from side to side as he felt around for something that could help him stand up.</p><p>“What the hell’s going on?!” demanded Moriarty from the building’s alcove.  His eyes landed on Jericho, then on Charon.  “You there!  I won’t tolerate troublemakers in my saloon!”</p><p>“Shuffler fucking attacked me!” Jericho announced for all who had not witnessed.  It was a risky gamble to use a wobbly table as support but it paid off when he dragged himself to his feet.  “Goddamn zombies!  I dunno why the fuck Simms lets you into town!”</p><p>“I won’t have anyone attacking my patrons,” insisted Moriarty, coming into the room with his hands on his hips.  “You have an explanation for me, or should I save you the trouble and kick you out now?”</p><p>“I was protecting her,” Charon replied easily, indicating Leah.  “That is my job.”</p><p>“Oh, protecting her were you?  How noble, what a gentleman.  What a crock of horse-”</p><p>Leah tugged at Charon’s arm, trembling as all the emotions frozen within her from shock began to thaw and spread around her system at once.  “Let’s just go home,” she begged quietly.  “Charon, please let’s just— let’s just leave.  Please?  I just wanna go home.”  Away from Jericho.  Away from Moriarty.  Away from prying eyes and whispers behind hands, from the noises of Nova working on the floor above.</p><p>Charon nodded.  “If that is what you wish.”</p><p>He didn’t piggyback her this time, instead picking her up beneath the knees and upper back and lifting her from the seat as if she weighed no more than his gun.  Leah hid her face in her hands and pressed herself as close to Charon’s chest as she could, hoping his large frame and the darkness which had descended over the town would hide her from prying eyes.</p><p>But she had never been a quiet crier.</p><p>Even with her eyes hidden she could imagine the face of each person they passed, confused at the sight of the Vault 101 girl sobbing in a ghoul’s arms, carried home like a child.  The knowledge of how her voice would shake kept her from screaming at them all to go away, stop staring, mind their own business.</p><p>Wadsworth appeared from the bathroom as the front door closed behind them, offering a, “Welcome home!” and a “Is there anything I can do for either of you?”</p><p>“Power down, please, Wadsworth,” Leah hiccuped, sending the robotic butler back to his station against the wall.  The less who saw her like this the better, even nonjudgmental machines.</p><p>When Charon went to set her on the sofa Leah wrapped her arms around his neck and clung there, unable to any longer stave off her shaking or her sobbing, turning into a trembling heap of delayed anguish.</p><p>“Don’t leave me alone,” she said.  “Please.  Not right now.”</p><p>Saying it like that didn’t give him a choice.  She knew that, and would hate herself for it later.  For now she only knew that letting Charon go was a fate worse than death, that if she did an endless black void would swallow her hole and she would tumble aimlessly into the abyss until she became a part of it.</p><p>Charon sighed at the command, but moved and sat himself on the couch with Leah settled on his lap.  He said nothing.  Her nails caught in the fibers of his thin t-shirt when she clutched to it and tried so hard to calm the rising peaks of her sobs.</p><p>“I hired Jericho before I met you,” she explained through slowly dwindling hiccups.  “I needed— needed someone to take me to GNR.  But our first night he got really… <em>really</em> drunk.  He tried to—  to r—”  The word caught in her throat.  It tasted sour.</p><p>“You don’t have to tell me, kid,” Charon said, in what was perhaps the softest tone of voice she had ever heard him use.</p><p>“I need to tell <em>somebody</em>.”  It would eat her alive if she didn’t.</p><p>Charon nodded.  “Okay.”</p><p>Leah swallowed down another sob and tried to breathe, even as the air around her still tasted smokey and sweet.  “He tried to… to hurt me like he did tonight.  I… got away.  Broke his nose.  But I can— can still feel his hands on me…”  She felt so disgusting.  Everywhere he had ever touched her was covered in a layer of filth that would never wash away no matter how long of a shower she took.  It was like he’d torn open her skin and let her blood drain out, sticky and clotting and warm.</p><p>“And that is why he left you down in the tunnels,” Charon said.</p><p>“Yeah… I was gonna shoot him if he got near me again.”  She laughed.  “Kinda wish I had, to be honest.”</p><p>The laughter turned to tears again and she sniffled against his shirt.  “…Please don’t let him hurt me, Charon,” she begged, voice small.  The fragility of her tone bounced softly around the house's metal walls.  “Don’t let him touch me- don’t even let him <em>near</em> me, I… please.”</p><p>A hand laid itself against her shoulder.  It was heavy and warm.  “So long as I am with you,” Charon said, “he shall not harm you.  I will not allow him to.”</p><p>He had to say that.  He had to protect her.  It was his job; it was in his contract.  But just having Charon there, an ever vigilant guard who would protect her through thick and thin… that was a lot more than nothing.</p><p>“Thank you,” she murmured.</p><p>A lukewarm shower didn’t make all of the grimy feelings go away, but it helped.  Leah scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed at all the places Jericho had reached until the skin turned raw and red, then fumbled to dry and dress herself into something comfortable.  It was still early but all she wanted to do was lay in bed and rest, and if she happened to fall asleep then all the better.</p><p>Despite her insistence of not being hungry Charon brought her a bowl of oatmeal, insisting that her wellbeing was his priority and yes, that included making sure that she ate.  The texture was better than that of Instamash but the flavor was bland.  She swallowed down a few bites before pushing the bowl away disinterestedly.  He then carried her up to her room since stairs and crutches didn’t make the best of friends.  It was the smaller of the two, with a bed, desk, chair, and filing cabinet that served well as a makeshift dresser.  Charon got the larger room beside it, since the little twin mattress Leah occupied wasn’t nearly enough to fit someone of his stature.</p><p>“Will you guard the door tonight?” she asked when he turned to leave.  It was locked, she knew that, but the house beside theirs belonged to Jericho and scenarios of him stumbling drunkenly up to the wrong house and shooting the lock open or any number of other terrible things just wouldn’t leave her mind.  “I… I hate to ask; I know you need your sleep.  I just…”</p><p>“I will guard the door,” Charon said.  “If that is what you wish me to do.”</p><p>“Please?  Just for tonight.”</p><p>He stood in her doorway silently a few seconds longer.  “No harm will come to you while you’re in this house,” he said.  “Nor any time you are with me.  It is my job to protect you, and protect you is what I shall do.  Jericho won’t lay a hand on you again so long as I am in your employ.”  The faintest hint of a smirk crept onto his face.  “If he tries, I’ll do worse than just knock his teeth out.”</p><p>That made her laugh.  For some reason the memory of Jericho’s teeth rolling across the floor—yellow and rotten and bloody—was endlessly funny to her.  She didn’t remember noticing which teeth they were but hoped so deeply that the next time she saw him open his mouth the evidence of Charon’s fist would be staring her in the face.</p><p>“Thanks,” she said, now wiping tears of mirth from her eyes.  They felt a whole lot better than the ones she had shed earlier.  “I’m really glad to have you here, Charon.  I think this place would get kinda lonely with just Wadsworth for company.  And he wouldn’t carry me up the stairs.”  She smiled.  And that felt a lot better than frowning.  “I hope being here is alright for you, too.”</p><p>He stared at her for a long, quiet moment before turning and heading down the stairs.  “Get some rest, boss.”</p><p>He turned the light off as he left, leaving the room dark save for where moonlight snuck in through the small holes in the walls and ceiling.  Leah liked the moon, and the stars.  After years of reading about them and seeing pictures on the old projector down in the vault, the first time she had actually seen them had been breathtaking.  She sat outside the common house for hours, gazing up at the constellations and the arc that the moon made across the sky until it got too cold and she had to go in.</p><p>She wondered if Charon liked the stars.</p><p>The tail end of a slow, jazzy tune was playing as she dialed her Pip-Boy into GNR and set it on the edge of her desk.  Three Dog’s voice came through loud and clear, even on the lowest volume setting.</p><p>“Good evening, all of my wasteland pals,” he said.  “This is Three Dog, coming at you loud and proud from the one and only GNR in the scenic downtown D.C. wastes!  Just wanted to share one last little story with you all before I sign off for the night.  Do all of you remember a few weeks ago when I mentioned a cat named James stopping by my studio after escaping from the tyrannical reign of Vault 101’s fearless leader?  Well get this: just the other day we had ANOTHER 101 escapee visit our humble studio!  ‘Now, Three Dog!’ I’m sure you’re saying.  ‘Surely these two escapees know each other!’  And children, you would be right!  Our latest visitor was none other than James’ own kid!”  He laughed.  “I know, I know!  You can’t make this stuff up!</p><p>“Now, you’re also probably wonderin’ what could have made James run out and leave his kid underground, right?  Well, I can’t say that I know for sure, but the littlest 101 vaultie has made it her mission to find him and find out.  All Three Dog knows is that he’s a scientist working on something big and important.  I dunno what, I dunno why, and I dunno where, but isn’t that half the fun?  I’ll be sure to keep all you good people informed as the story develops, and boy am I sure it will.”</p><p>Leah closed her eyes and pressed her face into the pillow.  It was so strange hearing about herself from another’s mouth, her story told by an outsider, and when he put it that way it really did sound pretty fantastical, didn’t it?  She wondered if her father was listening to the broadcast from whatever hiding place he had found for himself; he’d be no doubt startled by the news since he wanted her to stay behind.  She could imagine the look on his face,</p><p>“But hey,” Three Dog continued, “James, if you’re listening?  Your kid’s out there, man, and she misses you.  So you might wanna find each other before the wasteland chews her up and spits her back out.  I know we’ve all seen it happen too many times before.</p><p>“And all you other wasteland cats: if you see a kid from Vault 101… give her a pat on the back and some good luck, maybe even some help if you can spare it.  It’s a harsh world out there and she’s gonna need all the friends she can get.”</p><p>It was impossible to get comfortable with her foot in a cast, but Leah tried her best.  Downstairs, the couch groaned when Charon shifted his weight, and there was no small amount of comfort in that noise.  </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Don't Ever Doubt that it's a Cruel, Cruel World</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Selfishness and self-preservation are what can keep you alive.  Kindness in a bleak world is never easy.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They stayed in Megaton for a while even after the cast came off at Charon’s insistence, restating Doc Church’ words about how easily the bone could rebreak if put under enough stress and how she still limped on it because of the pain.  The stimpaks had done all they were going to do and a hard enough fall or a bullet in the right place and Leah knew it may never be fixed again.  And as badly as she wanted to rush towards Vault 112, Charon was right about it being, “A damn stupid idea” and so she listened.</p><p>But sitting idly inside the walls wasn’t enough for her anymore.  There was something to be said about an afternoon spent quietly, but once she was able to walk on her own again Leah couldn’t shake the constant itched that burned under her skin to <em><em>do</em></em> something.  Walks around town didn’t sate it so after some arguing she got Charon to relent that a short journey a little whiles outside the gate wouldn’t be too much of a strain.  The possibility of finding some good scrap metal left lying around in Springdale to sell to Walter and replenish their dwindling supply of caps added a good deal of weight to her side of the argument, she was sure.</p><p>“I need new books,” she told Charon as they approached the ruins.  “I’ve read all the ones I can find in town.”</p><p>“Books are heavy,” he replied.  “Not practical to travel with.”</p><p>“I’ll leave them at the house when we’re on the road and just bring one or two.  I used to read a lot, y’know.  It was one of the most fun things to do in the vault.  All the books we had were really old but everyone took good care of them.  Everything out here is burnt or missing pages.”  This didn’t render them unreadable, but it <em><em>was</em></em> a bit jarring when on page 71 the protagonist was on a horse heading west and then suddenly on page 79 she was in a firefight and there was no context for what had gotten her to that point.</p><p>Charon said nothing to this complaint.  He was walking slower than usual, Leah’s already short gate dampened by her freshly healing tibia.  A gust of wind blew and she pulled her jacket tighter around her body, unaccustomed to the chill that had begun to settle in the air during overcast days.  The cold invaded her lungs every time she took a breath and it was… unusual.  But nice.  Bracing.  The vault was always temperature controlled, a perfect climate no matter the outside season.  When they learned in science class about the Earth’s rotation around the sun and the tilt of its axis and the shifts in weather that came with it Leah had <em><em>ached</em></em> to know what it meant to feel the changes of the seasons.  To watch flowers bloom in spring and catch fireflies on sticky summer nights and jump into leaf piles in the autumn and roll snowpeople to life in the winter.</p><p>But there wouldn’t be much of that, even in her new life.  Manya had said that there were days when it was colder and days when it was warmer, but the real concept of a ‘season’ stopped there.  If the sun was beating down on you it was going to be hot and the closest they got to winter was the freezing wasteland nights.  Rainstorms came, and maybe once in a blue moon snow would fall, but it never stuck and made the world all white and fluffy like in old movies.</p><p>So that was a bummer.</p><p>The sharp chill down the back of Leah’s neck and the way she could almost see her breath hang in the air were still lovely little surprises, though.  It was exciting to wake up in the morning, look at her pip-boy, and see its temperature reading at something other than 72 degrees.</p><p>The deserted streets of Springdale, running between skeletal housing remains, seemed to her even quieter than normal.  Charon made his way to an old mailbox, pulling it loose of its rotted pole and inspected the remaining bits of metal.</p><p>“These are gonna be a pain in the ass to carry back,” he said, but received no response from his employer, who had become distracted with inspecting the craggy hills in the middle distance.</p><p>“My vault’s up there,” she said, pointing.  “You can’t see it, but there’s this little wooden door in the side of the rock.  I tripped when I came out of it and fell down that hill there, then I stopped here here when I couldn’t keep running.”</p><p>Her pointed finger followed the path of the story, ending at the intersection she had collapsed in.  Despite it all, Leah couldn’t help smiling just a little bit at the memory.  It had been a warm day; the sting of a sunburn on the back of her neck was still vivid.  Everything had been too bright and too new and incomprehensible, and she barely more than a child pushed out into a world she had been taught to hate and fear.  That felt like such a lifetime ago.</p><p>“I wonder if they’d ever let me back in,” she said, mostly to herself.  Then she laughed.  “Nah, probably not.”</p><p>“Why did you leave?”</p><p>When had Charon gotten so close?  Leah jumped and turned to face him.  He was staring up towards the vault, but looked down at her when she didn’t respond.  He had become more talkative during their time in Megaton, but not by much.  The conversation muscles which had atrophied were beginning to regain their strength, but short sentences and one-word answers were still his style.</p><p>“Vaults are safe,” he continued when she went long enough without answering.  “Most people out here would give an arm and a leg to get into one.”</p><p>“C’mon,” said Leah, “you already know.”</p><p>“To find your father?”</p><p>“Mmhm.”  She nodded, turning her gaze back up to the craggy hill.  “The Overseer wanted to kill me because Dad escaped, so I didn’t really have a choice.  But I think I would have come out even if I did.”  She shrugged.  “I didn’t really fit in down there.  Maybe because I was born out here in the wastes.”</p><p>Charon smirked.  “You’re still a vaultie, boss.  Inside and out.”</p><p>From some distance off music floated through the air, drawing closer.  Thinking perhaps it was a brahmin caravan traveling through on its way to Megaton, Leah at first paid it no mind.  But the pre-war patriotic song of Yankee Doodle was nothing that Three Dog would ever play.</p><p>“Oh,” she said when a round, silver robot floated into view.  She walked towards it, keeping her distance but not allowing it to escape from view.  “I saw one of those things when I first came out.  What is it?”</p><p>“Enclave Eyebot,” said Charon, who followed behind.</p><p>“Enclave?”  She’d heard that name before.  Manya’s husband, Nathan, talked about them like they hung the moon and the stars in the sky.  “God bless the U.S.A.,” he’d say, “and no-one else.”  No matter how many times his wife tried to tell him that there <em><em>was</em></em> no America anymore he just insisted that the Enclave was the last bastion of true patriotism, and they were gonna swoop in and make everything peaches and cream again for good, decent folk like them.  Leah didn’t talk to him very much; he made her uncomfortable.</p><p>The music died down and was replaced with the voice of a man.  It was pleasant and soft and reminded Leah of the narrator of the Herbert Dashwood radio plays that GNR hosted.  She had become quite a fan during her convalescence.  </p><p>“Hello again, America,” said the voice.  “This is your president: John Henry Eden.”</p><p>“President?” she asked aloud.</p><p>“Just some old bullshit,” said Charon.  “Old recordings of some guy who called himself the president.  Don’t worry about it.”</p><p>They watched the robot putter along its path down the street.  It stopped at the end of what had once been a road and turned a hundred and eighty degrees in midair, meandering back from whence it came while John Henry Eden’s voice filtered through the air.  Charon lifted his gun.</p><p>“Plenty of scrap in that thing,” he said.</p><p>“Wait- I wanna try!”</p><p>Leah pulled her pistol from her hip and aimed, but her companion’s scoff stopped her before she could pull the trigger.</p><p>“That little thing won’t even dent it,” he said.</p><p>She frowned.  “Then let me try yours.”</p><p>The look he gave made her backtrack.  “I mean- no, wait, ignore that.  You don’t <em><em>have</em></em> to let me use your gun.  Just.  Could I try?  I used to be pretty good with a BB gun so I’m not totally clueless.”</p><p>“That’s not even close to a shotgun,” huffed Charon in what sounded suspiciously like a laugh.  “No way you can handle this.”</p><p>“You don’t know that!”</p><p>He raised the remains of an eyebrow at her, holding out his shotgun.</p><p>“Alright,” he said.  “Go ahead.”</p><p>It took seconds for Leah to begin thinking that perhaps this <em><em>wasn’t</em></em> the best idea.  Sure, the weapon was similar to her old BB gun in shape, but it was much larger, much heavier, and much more powerful.  In Charon’s hands it was no doubt a weapon of deadly accuracy and power, but in hers it just felt clumsy.</p><p>“Just be careful,” her companion warmed.  “Eyebots have-”</p><p>The <em><em>crack</em></em> of gunfire drowned out the end of that sentence.  Whether the buckshot hit or missed its target was lost on Leah, as the recoil shoved so hard into her shoulder that she lost her balance and fell backwards into the dirt.  Charon cackled down at her with a grin on his cracked, ruined lips.</p><p>“Recoil’s a bitch, huh?” he said as she pulled herself to her feet.</p><p>“You could have warned me.”  Blush made her hot to the tips of her ears.  It was already easy to feel childish standing next to Charon; having him laugh at her like that only made it worse.  </p><p>“You didn’t order me to warn you,” he pointed out.  “You only asked me to let you use my gun.”</p><p>Leah shot him a look.  She had learned a lot about Charon during their stretch of time together: he was an early riser, would eat mirelurk meat only if there was no other option, had an inherent distrust of robots, and was kind of a butt.  She could count on one hand how many time she had heard him laugh and all of them had been at her expense, but something kept her from really minding.</p><p>“How about you teach me to use it?” she suggested, pulling the weapon towards herself when he reached out to take it from her.  “You don’t have to, I’m not ordering you to, but it’d be kinda nice to know how.”</p><p>Charon considered her for a few seconds, then said, “Alright.  Aim.”</p><p>He criticized her posture, criticized her stance, criticized the placement of her hands.</p><p>“What the hell are you closing one eye for?” he asked.  “You need them both open to aim!  And keep your hand here or else the barrel’s gonna move too much.  No- <em><em>no</em></em>.  Like <em><em>this</em></em>.”</p><p>The leather of his gloves was smooth and well worn, softer than the mangled and scarred fingers that wore them.  He adjusted her grip while standing behind her, then pushed on her back and tugged at her shoulder to adjust her stance when it began to falter.  Finally satisfied, he stepped back.</p><p>“Alright.  Wait for it to come back around, then fire.  And keep both eyes open, for chrissake.”</p><p>She didn’t fall the second time, and the shot connected.  But the eyebot didn’t go down; instead it stopped its mid-air flight and turned slowly towards them.  Without missing a beat Charon said, “Pump the forearm back until it clicks.  Now, fire again.”</p><p>An energy beam whizzed by so close to Leah’s ear that she swore it singed her hair, but she had already pulled the trigger before the fear of knowing her target was firing back could properly settle.  The second shot connected like the first and the eyebot exploded into a pile of fried circuit boards and dented metal before she could lower her weapon.</p><p>Charon looked at her with a slight nod, unimpressed but not unhappy.  Leah grinned in return.  “I wanna do it again!”</p><p>-</p><p>When they left Megaton for real, on the path to Vault 112, Leah was reliable with both her gun and Charon’s.  The bruises on her shoulder and tailbone took time to heal but she took the pain in stride just like the soreness of her upper arms from supporting the shotgun for so long during target practice.  At the end of a particularly long day she sat and watched Charon disassemble his shotgun for routine maintenance, observing how each part fit together and how meticulously he cleaned them.  His hands were very agile.  Talented.  He knew his weapon inside and out, barely even needing to look as he took it apart.  They were warm, too; Leah remembered how they felt pressed against her back, her shoulder, her arm when he’d adjusted her posture.</p><p>“Evergreen Mills should be a three or four day trip,” he said when he noticed her staring.  “We should be prepared.”</p><p>Leah whistled.  “That far?”</p><p>“Normally I’d say two, but I’m accounting for how slow you walk.”</p><p>“Well maybe I’ll have you carry me the whole way, if you think I’m so slow!”</p><p>“Is that an order?”</p><p>Leah huffed.  “You know it’s not.”</p><p>“In that case, it’s your trip.  If you want to get there sooner then I suggest walking faster.”</p><p>Within the first few hours of their journey, Leah was just happy to be traveling again.  It felt good to get out and stretch her legs, to be back on track to her goal.  The nagging part of her mind told her that her father had almost certainly left 112 by this point, but she countered that with the fact that it was still the best lead she had- the <em><em>only</em></em> lead.  There was also the question of how she was going to get into the vault at all, but if her father had gotten in then she was confident she could, too.  Perhaps 112 wasn’t as strict about outsiders as 101 had been and there would be a sympathetic guard stationed outside who would welcome her in when he heard her story.</p><p>Charon was his usual stoic self, but there was no contest as to whether Leah preferred traveling with or without him.  Traveling along was fine.  Traveling with Jericho was… a thing that had happened.  But traveling with someone who didn’t roll his eyes every time she spoke definitely helped bolster her spirits.  Sometimes she wondered if Charon really did think everything she said was stupid and was keeping it to himself because of the contract, but there were times where he told her in no uncertain terms how he felt about a subject and Leah decided that he just didn’t mind hearing her ramble on some of the time.</p><p>So ramble she did.  About her dad, about the vault and the people inside; about Amata, Jonas, and Mrs. Palmer, about Butch, Wally, and Paul.</p><p>“They decided they were gonna be the vault’s gang,” she laughed.  “The Tunnel Snakes.  And I guess by 101 standards they were pretty bad.  Smoking, drinking, swearing, skipping class… but I don’t think any of them would be ready to face the stuff out here.”  She paused.  “Then again, I’ve made it alright so far.  And if I can do it then they probably could, too.  But I’ve got you.”</p><p>“Were you a Tunnel Snake?” Charon asked, and indicated the back of her jacket.</p><p>“No,” Leah laughed.  “Not really.  I didn’t get along with them.  But I helped Butch’s mom the day I got out, and he gave this to me as a gift.  Didn’t know I was making a break for it, so maybe he planned on getting it back from me later, I dunno.”  She shrugged.  “Not exactly my size, but it’s comfy.”</p><p>Three Dog’s track list for the day was upbeat and bright, setting just the kind of mood Leah needed to walk for hours on end.  She sang along to <em><em>Bongo Bongo Bongo, Mighty Mighty Man, Anything Goes</em></em> and a dozen others, learning many of the lyrics as she went and dancing when the terrain allowed for it.  A few of the songs were familiar from back home, but their jukebox hadn’t been stocked with every single popular song from pre-war life so it was refreshing to hear something new.</p><p>As they made their way down a gently sloping incline on their path, Leah caught sight of a figure crouched into the alcove of a nearby hill.  She thought at first to just pass him by, but at the sound of she and Charon’s footfalls the figure looked up and caught her eye.</p><p>“Help,” the man pleaded.  He was scraggly and sunburned.  Deep bags weighed down beneath his eyes and his cheekbones were held in sharp relief against the rest of his face.  “Please- please can you help me?  Water.  I- I need water…”</p><p>She was at his side before Charon could protest.</p><p>“It’s going to be alright,” she soothed, dropping her bag to search through her supplies.  “Here, drink this.”</p><p>She uncapped a bottle of fresh water, which the man took eagerly and drank down halfway before pulling away for air.  Droplets ran down his chin and he wiped them off and suckled them from his fingers.</p><p>“Pure… pure water,” he said, almost trance-like.  “I haven’t had it in so long- I’ve been drinking from the river and even if I boil it for the germs the- the radiation..!  I just can’t handle it anymore…”</p><p>“Let’s get you cleared up,” she soothed.  “Give me your arm- I’ve got RadAway.”</p><p>His eyes went wide.  “I- really?  I can’t… can’t pay you or anything.  Not enough, at least.”</p><p>“That’s alright.  C’mon, let’s get you up and walking again, yeah?  We’ll sit with you until you’re clear.”</p><p>Purging radiation wasn’t a quick process, or an easy one, and Leah knew first hand the side effects that came with it.  Stomachaches, headaches, nausea, even diarrhea if the case was advanced. Best to sit with the man and ensure he made it through alright and didn’t violently empty his bowels through either end.</p><p>His name was Thomas, and he was traveling northeast to Canterbury Commons.  He had no family in the area, but a sister and a nephe up in the Commonwealth he was hoping to meet up with again in the near future.  He handled the RadAway well enough keeping down the water he had been given and breathing deeply through the stomachaches and nausea.  When it all finally passed he thanked Leah up and down, nearly crying when she pushed provisions into hi hands and told him to eat and get back his strength.</p><p>Charon stood some feet away, observing the area like any good sentry, and said nothing.</p><p>“I can’t thank you enough,” Thomas repeated.  “You saved my life- if there’s anything I can do to repay you… I have some stimpaks, if those would be useful?”</p><p>“Just get yourself to safety,” Leah assured.  “A few hours away there’s a settlement called Megaton; they might have room in the common house for you to stay for a couple of nights.  If not then a couple of houses to the south in Springdale are good enough for shelter and might have a working faucet or two.”  She pushed another bottle of water into his hands.  “Take this for now.  It’ll last you until you can get there.”</p><p>From the look on his face he could have cried, but perhaps his body hadn’t yet properly re-hydrated to make such a thing possible.  Instead he pulled her into a hug and, despite the initial spike of fear that formed in Leah’s gut, she didn’t push him away.</p><p>“I hope there are others as kind as you,” he said.  “I think I’ll stay here a while longer, maybe travel once the sun goes down.  But you should be on your way; I’m sorry to have kept you.”</p><p>It was no problem, and Leah told him this, but she was eager to get back on the road.  They left Thomas behind, resting in the shade and waiting for the cool of the night to take over the oppressive heat of the day.  Once he was out of sight Charon said, “That was foolish.”</p><p>“Huh?”  Leah looked to him with a frown.  “What do you mean?”</p><p>“You wasted supplies on someone you do not know.”</p><p>“It wasn’t a waste to him.”</p><p>“You know how valuable clean water is for smoothskins.  You can’t just give your supply away to anyone who asks.  We are only on the first day of this journey; you’ll regret what you just did if you end up needing those supplies in the future.”</p><p>Leah frowned harder.  “But he needed it <em><em>now</em></em>.  What does it matter that I didn’t know him—he needed help.  He probably would have died if he went on much longer, but now maybe he can make it to somewhere with shelter.  And I’d hope that if I were in his position, a kind stranger would help me, too.”</p><p>Charon clicked his tongue.  “You are very naive.  There are countless people in need of help out in the wastes.  You cannot save them all.”</p><p>“Why not?”</p><p>Her companion looked down at her with a frown of sharp frustration.  Leah did not shrink away.</p><p>“I know you are not as foolish as that question would have me believe.”</p><p>“That’s not an answer.”</p><p>“There are too many people in the wastes for you alone to save them all.”</p><p>“I don’t need to save them all,” Leah replied, adjusting her backpack on her shoulders and standing up straighter.  “I just need to help the ones that I meet.”</p><p>“The universe won’t be nice to you just because you’re kind.  It doesn’t care.”</p><p>“But I<em><em> do</em></em>.  Maybe I can’t save everyone, but I can try.”</p><p>They had stopped walking, too engrossed in a staring contest to continue.  In the end it was Leah who backed down, adjusting her cap and turning back towards the west.  She walked towards the setting sun with purpose.  </p><p>“Come on,” she said.  “Let’s keep going.”</p><p>-</p><p>With no proper cover to protect them from the elements, Charon found the safest looking wall of rock in the area and set up a camp there once it started to grow dark.  They lit a fire, cooked some molerat meat, and Leah tried in vain to massage the ache out of the calves.</p><p>“You should sleep,” Charon eventually suggested.  “I’ll keep watch.”</p><p>All day she had been groaning about the sleeping bag Moira had sold her because it added so much bulk to what she had to carry, but now that the reality of sleeping out in the open with nary a dirty mattress or semi-comfortable stretch of floor in sight was upon her, she was glad it had been all but forced into her arms.  A few rocks were kicked out of the way before she settled onto the earth, and a suspicious chemical smell lingered on the fabric, but Leah snuggled in all the same.</p><p>“Wake me up in a few hours? We’ll switch so you can rest, too.”</p><p>“I can keep watch all night-” Charon tried to argue, but Leah shook her head.  </p><p>“You need rest, too.  Wake me up halfway through the night and we’ll switch, okay?”</p><p>He sighed.  “You’re a stubborn little smoothskin, y’know that?”</p><p>“I take the health of those around me very seriously.  Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m exhausted.”</p><p>And she was.  But despite this, falling asleep on the hard ground proved more difficult than Leah had anticipated.  She tossed and turned, facing towards the glowing remains of their fire one moment then away the next.  Charon’s unmoving form came in and out of focus through the darkness, so still that she began to wonder if it was him she was staring at or an oddly shaped rock.  Then, after finding a comfortable position on her stomach, it felt like only ten minutes passed before Charon was shaking her by the shoulder and asking her to rise.</p><p>“I’m up, I’m up,” she groaned.  “Just… gimme a sec I didn’t sleep too good.”</p><p>“I can watch for the rest of the night,” he offered again, but she waved him off.</p><p>“No,” she yawned.  “No, you need sleep.  Better for you to be in fighting condition than me.  I’ll stay awake and watch for… monsters, or whatever.”</p><p>Charon’s sleeping bag was much bigger than hers, but he hadn’t complained once about having to carry it.  Then again, by Leah’s estimate he had the strength of approximately half a dozen brahmin and so nothing short of carrying a car would cause him any real distress.  He climbed in after unrolling and rested easily on his back, which when combined with his ghoulish appearance made him look unnervingly like a corpse.  His shotgun rested on his stomach, both hands curled around it.</p><p>“I’ll wake you up if there’s danger,” she promised.  “Or when it’s morning.  Whichever comes first.”</p><p>“Mm.”</p><p>“Goodnight.”</p><p>“Mm.”</p><p>Leah was prepared for many things, but she was not prepared for how utterly <em><em>boring</em></em> keeping watch was.  She almost wished that she smoked, just to have something to do, but knew well the effects such a hobby had no matter how dangerous the wasteland could be Leah was <em><em>not</em></em> going to give lung cancer the opportunity to take her out before a bullet did.</p><p>The radio was out of the question and it was too dark to read the one book she had packed in with all her supplies, so Leah’s means of entertainment was relegated to counting stars.  There was no real beginning to such a task and no conceivable end, but they were at very least nice to look at and it kept her mind occupied as she caught a few constellations she remembered from her textbooks: Orion was over there, flanked by his hunting dogs Canis Major and Canis Minor, all three of them chasing Taurus across the sky.  The North Star twinkled bright in its proper direction, and a few more colorful points of light she knew to be far off planets mixed into the background noise of supernovas.  The colored swaths of the Milky Way circled around the planet, unbothered by the light pollution of the previous era.</p><p>On one of her first nights outside of the vault Leah had spent hours sitting against the outer walls of the common house, staring up at the sky in awe.  It was so much bigger than pictures made it seem, so much emptier and yet bursting with so many wonderful things.  It made her feel small and protected and profoundly un-alone in a way that only God had ever done when her father read her bible passages.  There was so much out there—so much she could only barely see and begin to understand.  The distance between her and her father was hard, sure, but it was nothing compared to the distance that the light of that star had to travel to be seen by her eyes.</p><p>Leah hummed quietly to herself, hoping she wasn’t disturbing Charon but he didn’t so much as twitch in his sleep.  It wasn’t any particular song, just scattered notes plucked from the air, too quiet to alert anyone of her presence.  The only other noises to be heard were the wind blowing and something howling off in the distance.  Much too quiet for her tastes.  Humming filled the anxious silence.</p><p>A quick flash of light streaking across the atmosphere caught her attention after some time of staring blankly into space.  A shooting star.  You were supposed to wish on those.  Some people said they were angels who would carry your prayers to God, others that they were magical bits of far off places come to grant your wish.  Leah knew that in reality they were just bits of rock and ice entering the atmosphere and burning up, unable to stand the pressure and heat of entry.  They didn’t care about her wish.  They couldn’t hear her prayer.  She couldn’t even remember the last time she had properly prayed.</p><p>But she did now.  To find her father, mostly.  But also for safety, for health, for them not to be ambushed by raiders while Charon was asleep and she was zoning out watching the moon fall.  After a few moments of mental silence she added a prayer for Thomas to reach Canterbury Commons safely, then another that Gob would find the time to write to Carol.  Another that Moira wouldn’t blow herself or anybody else up, and one more that Nova wouldn’t have to work with anyone mean tonight.  She wasn’t sure if these counted as prayers or wishes anymore, or what the wish-granting power of a shooting star even capped out at, but they all seemed worth a passing mention.</p><p>Leah glanced back at Charon’s still, presumably sleeping form and watched his chest rise and fall with even breaths.  She wished for him, too, though she didn’t know what for.  Just happiness, she supposed, if such a thing was even possible.  Peace, perhaps.  Contentment.  What she really wanted was for him to be free of the contract but it was going to take more than wishes and prayers to fix that kind of mess.</p><p>-</p><p>“Stay close to me,” Charon said the next afternoon, pulling out his shotgun and holding it in both hands.  “And draw your gun, but don’t aim it.  Don’t wanna cause trouble.”</p><p>“Trouble?”</p><p>“Just keep your head down and stay quiet.  Trust me.”</p><p>He walked in front of her for several yards, passing a group of people Leah did her best not to look at by Charon’s order.</p><p>“Keep movin’, zombie,” growled one of the figures.  Charon said nothing in reply.  There were five of them, by her count, and curiosity got the best of her once they had passed.  She looked up.</p><p>Three of the people walked single file, and were tied together on a length of rope, bound by their wrists in such a way that if one tugged the others would feel it.  Around each of their necks was a silver collar, large and electronic.  The two other men followed behind, flanking the group of three on either side.  They had large guns at the ready.  One jabbed the third prisoner in the back with the barrel, urging them to move faster.</p><p>“Charon,” Leah said in a whisper, stopping her companion in his tracks.  “What’s going on there?”</p><p>She wasn’t stupid.  She knew.  But when her companion answered, “Slavers taking their inventory to market,” she still fought down the urge to vomit.  “C’mon,” he continued.  “It’s not our business.”</p><p>But Leah didn’t move.  She watched the slavers and their captives continue the slow march, none of them speaking.</p><p>“We have to help them.”</p><p>Charon yanked her by the back of her jacket until she was behind him, watching for any indication that the men had heard her speak.  When there was none, he turned and hissed, “Don’t be an idiot.  Like I said, it’s not for us to worry about.”</p><p>“They need <em><em>help</em></em>, Charon!”</p><p>“You can’t stick your nose into everybody’s business,” he bit.  “It’ll get you killed.”</p><p>Leah stared hard at Charon for a number of seconds, then without preamble turned, drew her shotgun, and fired at one of the slaver’s heads before he or her bodyguard could register what she had done.</p><p>The first shot missed, but the second didn’t.  The slaver toppled over with a cry of pain and fear as the slug ran clean through his leg, his cry so loud that it startled some birds from their perch on a nearby rock.  The captives fell to the ground and tried to shield themselves when the other slaver drew his weapon, and a bullet whizzed by Leah’s arm before Charon could intervene.</p><p>“Get your own, fuckin’ bitch!” he yelled.</p><p>Charon earned a new dent to his chest plate when the next shot connected with his torso but returned fire without missing a beat.  Buckshot tore through the exposed bits of the slaver’s torso and neck and he fell, bleeding out, into the dirt.</p><p>“Fucking stupid,” Charon grumbled as he lowered his gun.  “Firing on them with no cover.  Lucky they were terrible shots.”</p><p>But Leah wasn’t listening.  The captives still huddled with their hands over their heads as she approached, kicking away the gun of the slaver she had shot through the leg and ensuring he wouldn’t grab it.  The sight of an entire chunk of the man’s thigh blown open—exposing blood-soaked muscle and fat to open air—was not one she enjoyed.  It would be infected within a day.  If he wanted to live he’d need treatment right away, possibly even an amputation if the trauma was bad enough.  He whimpered and sniffled and cried in the dirt and it made her feel sick to know that <em><em>she</em></em> had done that to him.</p><p>“Please don’t hurt us,” begged one of the captives quietly.  “We’ll behave- promise, we won’t be any trouble.”</p><p>She turned back to them; their dirty, fearful faces put her a bit more at ease.  They couldn’t have been older than her.  Tear tracks on the cheeks of the youngest indicated that he had been crying not long ago.  The man she had shot was going sell these people into slavery, to endure who knew what at the hands of evil people.  She had to remember that.</p><p>“I’m not going to hurt you,” she said softly to them, kneeling beside the middle captive and reaching out to the silver collar around his neck.  He flinched away and looked to her with dark and fearful eyes.</p><p>“What are these?” she asked.  “Do they hurt you?”</p><p>“Th- they’re obedience collars,” he stuttered.  “They keep us from running off.  If we try they’ll… they’ll explode.”</p><p>“How do I get them off of you?”</p><p>The three captives looked at each other.</p><p>“We don’t know,” the boy finally said.</p><p>In her periphery saw the slaver attempting again to crawl away and reach his weapon and called for Charon to stop him.  He did, hoisting the man up by the back of his shirt.  Blood dripped down his leg from the dirty, clotting wound.  When the wind blew the stench of blood nearly overwhelmed her.</p><p>“How do I take off the collars?” she demanded.</p><p>The slaver hesitated, then tried to pry himself from Charon’s grip but his captor could not be moved.  Finally he cried, “There’s- there’s a remote but- but I don’t have it!  He does!”  And he pointed to the body of his companion.  It had not taken long for him to die, bleeding out and struggling to catch his breath.  He was uncomfortably warm when Leah rooted through his pockets, though, and finding the object in question could not have come soon enough.  The strange little thing had a frequency dial and a numberpad along with various colored buttons.  The captives looked to it and to her with fear in their eyes.</p><p>“Tell me how to work this,” she demanded of the man.  He looked so scared and helpless, being held up like that by Charon.  She had to remember that he was evil, that he was a monster, that it was his life or the lives of the three who had been his captives.  “Now!”</p><p>“G-go to frequency four!” he instructed.  “Then- then press zero, then there’s a code to unlock them!”</p><p>“What’s the code?”</p><p>“Five seven eight three nine… I think.”</p><p>“You <em><em>think?”</em></em></p><p>He swallowed.  “That’s either the release code or the, uh… the self destruct code…”</p><p>“The what?!”</p><p>“I’m pretty sure it’s the release code!” he assured, looking between Leah and Charon and trembling when the ghoul glared back.  “Like… like ninety-six percent sure!  I promise!  Put it in, then press the green button!”</p><p>“And if that’s right they’ll be free?”</p><p>He nodded.</p><p>Leah wasn’t sure how much she trusted that, not that there was much of an option.  The one who knew better was dead.</p><p>She took a breath, then swallowed and stared down at the little device in her hand.  Charon offered only a shrug when she looked to him for reassurance.</p><p>“Dear God, pleases don’t let me kill these people,” she whispered, and before she could hesitate another moment she entered the code as instructed.</p><p>High robotic beeps sounded from each of the collars.  Everyone held their breath in the quiet seconds that followed, but as each of the collars sprang open and fell to the ground the captives and Leah all cheered and hurried to kick them away.  They began to help free each other from their bonds Leah nodded at Charon and he released his grip on the slaver, who immediately fell to the ground with another scream of anguish.</p><p>Then Charon hit the man on the back of the head with the butt of his shotgun and either knocked him out or killed him, which she had not intended but there was no time to dwell on that.</p><p>“Are you guys all okay?” Leah asked, swinging her back off of her shoulder.  “Are you hurt?  I have stimpacks if anyone needs, and I’m low on water—” she ignored the look Charon gave her at that statement “—but I should have enough if anyone needs a drink.”</p><p>“We’re okay, mostly,” said the oldest captive, or at very least the tallest.  Still dwarfed by Charon she stood at least six inches taller than Leah with long, pin straight blond hair.  She went beyond the typical thin of a wastelander and passed right into lanky, almost waifish.  “They only got us yesterday… we’re not too bad off.  You saved us… thank you <em><em>so much</em></em>.”</p><p>“Oh, it was nothing, really—”</p><p>“Like hell,” continued the girl, pulling her companions free from their bonds and checking the smallest over for injuries.  “Do you know how many people we passed who didn’t even look at us twice?  You’re a hero.  Really, you are.  Both of you.  <em><em>Thank you.</em></em>”</p><p>Leah never knew how to accept things like praise or thanks.  She smiled and tried again to assure the young woman that it wasn’t any trouble, even handing out food and water when adrenaline began to run low and signs of exhaustion made themselves evident in the three former captives.  Even with the stench of blood from the slavers not ten feet away they scarfed it down in record time, sitting in the small bit of shade provided by a nearby rock.</p><p>“I’m exhausted,” said the youngest of the three.  He had dark skin and wide brown eyes, and despite having to be in at least his late teens seemed quite childlike compared to his friends.  “I couldn’t sleep at all with that thing around my neck…”</p><p>“Just be grateful someone found us,” said the middle former-captive.  They were rough and stocky, with dirty blond hair pushed back from their face.  “We would have been bought and sold at Evergreen by sundown, otherwise.”</p><p>Leah’s ears perked up.  “Evergreen Mills?”</p><p>“Yeah.  Somewhere close to here, I think.  They kept saying it was, anyway.”</p><p>“It’s a slave market?” Leah asked, and the blond stranger rolled their eyes.</p><p>“Yeah, second biggest in DC.  Don’t tell me you haven’t heard of it.”</p><p>“I mean I’ve heard <em><em>of</em></em> it…” she grumbled.  “I just didn’t know what it was.  <em><em>Someone</em></em> didn’t think to tell me.”</p><p>“You didn’t ask,” Charon stated.</p><p>“Don’t be so tough on her, Marrow,” said the eldest of the group.  “She just saved us.  Besides that look, she’s got a vault suit on.  There’s probably tons she doesn’t know.”</p><p>That didn’t make Leah feel any better.</p><p>The dark-skinned boy jumped to his feet.  “Wait!” he said.  “Are you that girl Three Dog talked about on the radio?!”</p><p>Oh, right.  People listened to that.  A hot blush crept its way up Leah’s neck and to the tips of her ears as she answered, “Oh, uh, yeah, I guess I-”</p><p>“Wow!”  He rushed up to her, stopping only inches from her face and bouncing excitedly on his toes.  “That’s so cool!  Did you really help kill a Behemoth at GNR?  And help repair the satellite?  We can listen to Three Dog even all the way out here now!”</p><p>“<em><em>Will</em></em>,” scolded the tall young woman, pulling him away by the back of his shirt.  “Give her space, you’re scaring her.”</p><p>“What’re you doing all the way out here?” he asked, still bouncing.  “You don’t think your dad’s at Evergreen, do you?”</p><p>“No, but somewhere nearby.”</p><p>“There’s not a whole lot around Evergreen,” said Marrow.  “Just some empty buildings and old shacks and stuff.  No real settlements until you get to Big Town.”</p><p>“Where’s that?”</p><p>“It’s where we’re from,” said the young lady, who would later introduce herself as Little Jane.  “Well, where we’re from now, anyway.  It’s about half a day northeast of here, maybe less if we walk fast.”</p><p>“I’m too tired to walk more,” whined Will.</p><p>“You’d rather sleep out here and get eaten by bloatflies and radscorpions?” asked Marrow, who then scoffed.  “Then again, not like Big Town’s much better.”</p><p>Little Jane sighed.  “I’m exhausted, too, but we should get back if we can.”  She glanced at Leah.  “Actually… I hate to ask this… I mean, you just saved us, and I know you’re pretty busy looking for your dad’n all that but, uh…  Is there any chance you could help us get back there?  None of us really have any weapons, and even if we did we wouldn’t know how to use them, plus we’re exhausted.  There’s a pretty good chance we won’t make it back if we try going at it ourselves.  We’d probably just get caught again.”</p><p>If there was ever a time Leah wanted to say no, it was this one, and she could have.  She very easily could have put the slavers’ weapons into the hands of their former captives, give them a few pointers, and sent them on their way with a “Good luck!” and some hope.  And she could have continued on to find whatever little shack housed the vault where she would find her father.  It would have been so <em><em>easy</em></em>.</p><p>But these people were defenseless, and they were kind, and Leah knew that if she didn’t help them she would lie awake on some later night, envisioning the horrors that had befallen Little Jane, Marrow, and Willie, and she would regret her decision.  She was the reason two men were dead; the least she could do was ensure the safety of three others.</p><p>So she smiled and said, “Yeah, we can do that.”</p><p>Charon grumbled his protest as they set off, but Leah kept her head high.  </p><p>“They needed help,” she said.  “We can help.  So we’re helping.”</p><p>“This kinda thing’s gonna get you into trouble some day, smoothskin,” Charon sighed.  “And I’m the one who’s gonna have to get you out of it.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. You Know You Gotta Help Me Out</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Big Town's as good as gone.  But it isn't gone yet, and to Leah that's what matters.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Big Town was a city ravaged by trouble.  If it wasn’t a raider attack it was supermutants.  If the clinic didn’t need repairs then the doctor had just been kidnapped.  When Charon and Leah followed the others past the lone guard sitting watch and crossed the small bridge that reached over a protective spike-filled moat dug around the town, the remaining residents seemed just as surprised to see their friends alive as they were convinced that it wasn’t going to last.  Once the hugs and tearful “welcome back!”s had ended and Leah had been thanked and stared at by a good handful of people who recognized her from Three Dog’s broadcasts, Little Jane, Marrow, and Willie learned what they had come back to.</p><p>“You missed another mutie attack,” said one of the residents.  They were young, just like those who had been rescued.  Just like, it seemed, all of Big Town’s residents.  “They took Shorty- they took Red!  Pappy’s doing his best to hold us all together but everything’s just gone to shit.”  They sighed.  “There’s barely a dozen of us left with you guys back…  bet this place’ll be a ghost town in not too long.”</p><p>Pappy, who despite his name couldn’t have been past his mid twenties, thanked them for their help by offering what little he could: an unoccupied house to rest in, some food from their supply, and a bit of medicine from the clinic.</p><p>“Not much of a use without a doctor in it,” he sighed.  “Then again, there’s not gonna be anyone left to take care of if this keeps up.  You may as well have it.”</p><p>“Why do you all stay here?” Leah had to ask.  “If it’s so dangerous, I mean… couldn’t you find somewhere else to go?”</p><p>“No place out there’d take us,” he shrugged.  “Even if they would, we wouldn’t survive the trip.  We all came outta Little Lamplight, and there’s a lotta shit you don’t learn about the real world down there.  Hell, I guess you know something about that.  I didn’t know a vault girl could make it this far.  Three Dog says you sure are something, though.”</p><p>Leah hoped the mild sunburn on her cheeks hid her blush.  She didn’t say that Charon was almost entirely the reason she had made it this far.  “What’s Little Lamplight?”</p><p>The story Pappy told her was almost unbelievable.  A settlement completely populated by children, ones who ran there seeking shelter after their families had died, or who were found by the occasional search parties that ventured out on supply runs.  An entire city built of wooden platforms and bridges suspended over a clean, cool, underwater lake deep in an old cave system, safe and tucked away from the dangers of the wastes.  No radroaches or mirelurks or supermutants to speak of.  Rules made and kept and discarded as they were needed to keep the littlest ones safe, the eldest passing on their skills and knowledge.  It sounded like a book Leah had read once, years ago.</p><p>“Pretty cool, right?” Pappy asked, then gave her no chance to respond.  “Yeah, until they boot you out the day you turn sixteen, then you come here and find out the Big Town you were told about was just a fantasy and the real deal ain’t shit.  No protection, no food, slavers coming from one side and supers from the other.  Lemme tell you; games of ‘hunt the mutant’ didn’t do shit to prepare us for the real things.”</p><p>He sighed and moved to leave, waving a hand dismissively over his shoulder.  “Whatever.  You’re not here to hear our sob stories.  Sorry you had to come right after our doc went missing; she’d probably have more to offer you.”</p><p>Leah stopped him before he could close the door.</p><p>“…You said the mutants took your doctor?  Not killed her?”</p><p>“That’s right.”</p><p>“Took her where?”</p><p>“Germantown Police building, we think.  They’ve got a camp there.  It’s usually where they come from, anyhow.”</p><p>She glanced back at Charon, then at Pappy.  “…What direction’s that in?”</p><p>Charon’s hard, unhappy gaze on the back of her head was something Leah could ignore for only so long.  Big Town had just disappeared from sight when his heavy, purposeful silence became too much and she exploded.</p><p>“They’re scared!” she said.  “They’re in trouble!  Their friends got taken- they need help!”</p><p>“How many times are you going to put yourself in danger for people you don’t know?” he asked, voice filled with more irritation than anger.  Like a parent whose child kept acting out.  “Why can’t one of them go on this suicide mission?  Why do <em>you</em> have to be the one to help?”</p><p>“Because nobody else has!” she yelled, turning to face him and physically pained by how obvious an answer it was.  “It’s the same reason we helped the others— because they <em>need</em> help not tomorrow, not when someone else comes by, but right now!”  </p><p>It was hard to look at him, her chest heaving with emotion and his gaze still cool and unmoved.  Leah wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and settled her glasses back onto the bridge of her nose.  </p><p>“I can’t just pretend that things will be alright if I leave them alone,” she continued softly.  “And if I do nothing, and then later someone says something about Big Town being deserted I’ll know I could have helped and I’ll hate myself.  You don’t… Charon you don’t have to come.  If you don’t want to then go back and wait for me, but I’m going with or without you.”  </p><p>Charon’s sigh was deep and heavy enough to whip up the dirt around them- or perhaps that was just some conveniently timed wind.  He rolled his eyes and shook his head, adjusting his grip on his shotgun.</p><p>“Your safety is my priority; if you wish to do this, then I shall follow.  Just know that I think it’s a fool’s errand and you’re an idiot for getting involved.  You heard how they talk about the place; it’ll be a ghost town in a few weeks.  Saving a couple of them now isn’t gonna make a difference.”</p><p>Leah’s gut twisted.  She turned away from Charon with a shrugged, “Maybe,” then continued on their way.</p><p>The police station was at the bottom of a hill, which made surveying it much easier as she and Charon approached.  Unfortunately the good news stopped there.  The perimeter was protected by chain link fence, barbed wire, sandbags, and overturned wooden slats all piled higher than Charon’s head.  Two mutants stood guard just inside the only observable entrance, and without getting directly into their line of sight there was no chance of a clean shot.  This wasn’t just some random encampment of mutants; it was terrifyingly well guarded.</p><p>“They’ll be less of an issue if we separate them,” Charon suggested while they ducked behind the brambled remains of a bush, but Leah shook her head.</p><p>“I have an idea, but we’ll have to get closer.”</p><p>“How close?”</p><p>“Up against the fence.”</p><p>Oh that was not a happy look that he gave her.  Leah pointed to a pile of protective debris pushed up beside the gate, tall enough to hide them both from view if they ducked.  Her heart was beating in her throat as they approached, the supermutants close enough that if either of them stepped forward they would see the hopeful intruders crouched behind the barrier.  Charon looked at Leah with an expectant expression and his weapon drawn.</p><p>She pulled three frag grenades from a pouch on her hip, put one to her mouth and tugged out the pin with her teeth, then hurled it as far as she could in the direction from which they had just come.  The explosion seconds later sent dirt and dust and rocks flying.  One of the mutants perked up and looked in that direction.</p><p>“What was that?” it growled.</p><p>Leah threw another, just to the left of the first.  Then the third in the same spot.</p><p>“Enemy!”</p><p>Charon’s arm flew out reflexively and pushed her back against their hiding spot as the mutants charged through the gate and left it swinging open behind them.  Neither of the empty-headed muscle monsters spared them a glance as they rushed off towards whatever they perceived as a target, so they slipped inside while the creatures’ backs were turned.  Leah laid down four frag mines at the gate’s threshold and kicked up some dirt to cover them, Charon then pulling her along before the mutants got the chance to turn around.</p><p>“Not bad,” he admitted.</p><p>“Thanks.  Grognak used that same trick in issue 12, but instead of grenades it was rocks and instead of mines it was a pit of spikes and instead of supermutants it was herd of giant, bloodthirsty wild boars… but yeah, same principal.”</p><p>A few unsuccessful attempts at picking the building’s front lock left three bobby pins broken on the ground and the responsible duo with much less time than they had started with, so Charon took to just shooting the lock open.  This handily redirected the attention of the confused mutants back to them, but Leah judged that her frag mines had been enough to handle it when after the four explosions sounded there was a profound lack of incoherent yelling.</p><p>The building’s interior was as dreary, dark, and covered in dust as many of the abandoned facilities of the wastes.  Despite the lack of a greeting from any muties waiting to ambush, Charon kept Leah and himself pressed close to the wall with the whispered comment, “And don’t step on any bottles this time.”</p><p>“How many times are you gonna make me apologize for that?!” she whisper-yelled in reply.</p><p>“If we make it through this with all our limbs intact I’ll never bring it up again.”</p><p>She didn’t believe him for a moment.</p><p>Keeping their weapons drawn, Charon lead them through hallways with carefully planned footsteps and around corners only after giving the next room a thorough look.  Leah almost ran into his back when he stopped abruptly to disarm a rigged shotgun pointed towards them, then watched as he examined the weapon and tucked it beneath his arm.  Replacement parts, she supposed, and better they have it than the mutants.</p><p>Speaking of mutants, their lack of presence was turning from suspicious to worrying when one finally rounded a corner before Charon could approach and peak his head around.  It had no time to react before the ghoul blasted three shots point blank into its head, but that didn’t down it.  The thing raised its right hand to its bloodied face and roared in pain, then raised high the metal pole gripped in its left hand and took a swing at its attacker.  Charon ducked out of the way but just barely, and before he could retaliate with more bullets Leah raised her own gun and emptied her magazine into the creature’s face.  One of the shots must have hit whatever last bit of structural integrity was keeping the skull together because it all but exploded on the mutant’s shoulders and the body dropped into a useless, muscley heap.</p><p>Charon looked at Leah.  Leah looked at Charon.  Then she looked at the mutant, raised her arms in triumph, and explained, “Yay!  I killed it!”</p><p>“Yeah, good job,” Charon grumbled, wiping his face with the back of his hand.  “Next time don’t get brain matter on me when you do it.”</p><p>Briefly, Leah pondered the exciting revelation that supermutants <em>had</em> brain matter, but her companion was continuing onward before she could give it too hard of a think.</p><p>Frag mines set at the bottom of a staircase were no match for Leah’s nimble fingers and she stored the new toys carefully away in her bag while Charon scouted ahead on the lower level.  A bunch of computers occupied desks in one room, some of them still functioning.  A few drawers held the errant bottle cap or stimpak, and one held some shotgun ammo that Charon pressed into Leah’s hand.  A dozen or so books littered the floor, too tattered or burnt or torn to read.</p><p>“Guess they don’t really have a use for them,” Leah grumbled, kicking the remains of a novel across the room.  “Bet supers can’t even read.”</p><p>A voice from down the hall made them both jump.  “Hello?”</p><p>It was a quiet call, timid and unsure and Leah counted her breaths in the waiting silence that emerged after the question.</p><p>“Is someone there?” the voice called again.  “I heard you say something- please can you help me?”</p><p>Leah was halfway down the hall before Charon could protest, the light <em>clunk</em> of her boots echoing off of the empty walls.  He growled out a curse and followed quickly behind but Leah barely even noticed it; the room she entered into was made of jail cells, each occupied by skeletons save for one in the far corner.  There stood a young woman, dark-skinned and dressed in a jumpsuit so bright red that it stood out even in the dim light.  Her glasses were large and square and had thick lenses that magnified the size of her eyes and a red bandanna kept the sweat off of her brow and her tightly coiled hair pushed back out of her face</p><p>“Oh my god!” she cried, rushing up to the bars of her cell.  The joy on her face at seeing another human was bright enough to light up the whole room.  “There really is someone!”</p><p>“Are you Red?”  Leah met her on the other side of the bars.  “We came from Big Town; we’re here to save you.”</p><p>“Shorty’s around here somewhere, too,” she confirmed.  “I dunno where they took him.  You said you came from Big Town?  They actually sent a rescue party?”</p><p>“Don’t run ahead like that!” Charon scolded in a low tone as he, too, entered the room.  “And keep your damn voices down.”</p><p>“More or less,” Leah said in response to Red’s question, lowering her tone to an acceptable level.  “Charon and I brought some of the others back who’d been picked up by slavers, and Pappy mentioned you two had been taken, too.  So we came to get you.”</p><p>The stare Red gave her—eyes wide and mouth left ajar—made Leah uncomfortable.  She busied herself trying to find a bobby pin in her hair.</p><p>“For nothing?” Red asked after a moment.  “You just… came to get us?  Risked your lives over a couple of strangers?”</p><p>“Guess so,” she nodded.  Now wasn’t the time to argue this kind of thing.</p><p>Red stared some more, only seeming to snap from her trance when Leah pulled her baseball cap off her head to more effectively search for an improvised lockpick.  When Red realized what she was doing, she said, “I don’t think you can pick this lock.  This place was used to hold criminals back before the war; they wouldn’t have made it so easy to pick that anyone with a hair pin could do it.”</p><p>“We could blast the door off,” Charon suggested, but Leah shook her head.  There wasn’t nearly enough space for Red to back up into; no doubt an explosion would hurt her and that was the last thing they needed.</p><p>“There’s a key, I think,” the young woman offered.  “One of the mutants has it- I think he’s the leader.  Carries it on his hip.”</p><p>“Great.  Well, we’ve killed at least three muties so far.  What’s the chance one of them had it?”</p><p>A loud, angry battle cry erupted from down one of the halls and an especially large supermutant came barreling towards them brandishing a minigun.  Red yelled, “Zero, because that’s it!” before ducking into the farthest corner her captivity allowed and huddling with her hands over her head.  </p><p>Charon’s first two shots towards the mutant bounced off of a dingy but surprisingly sturdy metal helmet, and a third hit it in the shoulder.  As the minigun began to whir back to life, Charon pushed a nearby desk onto its side and pulled Leah behind it for cover, ducking down himself just as the shots began to fly.  As far as improvised shields went it certainly did the job.  A truly terrifying number of bullets made their home in the metal surface but not one made it through, although Leah felt each impact shake her entire frame and push the desk against her back.  What bullets missed hit the wall opposite, chipping at the exposed concrete and letting dust fly.</p><p>“My prisoner!” the mutant yelled.  “You can’t have!  Die, die!”</p><p>Ooh, “prisoner”.  That was a new one to add to her mental library of the supermutant lexicon.</p><p>Heavy, ragged breaths left the mutant when the hail of bullets died down, leaving it standing open for retaliation as it reloaded the weapon.  Leah took this opportunity to jump out and shoot the creature right between the eyes.  She missed slightly and hit just above the top lip instead, but that did not slow down the beast.  Twice more her weapon cracked and bullets connected with her target’s neck, but this still only served as a distraction.  Charon, at least, was able to reload and fire a full five rounds of buckshot that left a spread of damage across all exposed bits of the mutant’s upper body.  But it still did not go down.</p><p>Instead it turned and ran back down the hallway from whence it came.  Aiming to give chase Leah jumped from her hiding spot and began to follow but Charon’s yell stopped her in her tracks.  Unfortunately she saw too late why he objected.  The mutant, at the end of the hall and safely out of range, pulled the pin of a grenade between its yellow, gnashing teeth and chucked it straight at the open room.  Leah froze as it finished its journey towards her by rolling, stopping inches from her foot where it bumped against the side of an overturned wastebasket.</p><p>The explosion deafened her for a moment and she felt the air leave her lungs and refuse to return as her back smacked hard against the concrete flooring.  Stars erupted in her vision when her head snapped back with enough force to concuss and she felt the vibrations of debris hitting the ground around her.   When the dust began to settle and her senses returned to her with the addition of a sharp ringing in her ears, Leah became aware of the heavy weight on top of her. Charon’s weight.  He held her until debris stopped falling from the chipped parts of the ceiling and the smoke of the explosive began to clear, only lifting himself from where he pressed her body against the floor when he was sure the danger had passed.</p><p>“Are you alright?”</p><p>She couldn’t answer, diaphragm still spasming as she tried to take in air.  Terrifying as it was, though, she tried to relax and keep the panic from setting in.  Once when she was very little she had been sat atop her father’s desk in the clinic, watching him work, when for one reason or another she had lost her balance and toppled back.  The wind had been knocked out of her then, as well, and she had cried and screamed as much as one was able when they couldn’t take a full breath, convinced that she was going to die.  But her father had laid her on a bed and held her hand, promised her it was going to pass and she just needed to relax and let it be.  And slowly, her breath had returned.</p><p>This time was ultimately more frightening, what with the grenade and the super mutant and the echoes of gunfire still ringing in her ears, but she tried to keep the advice in mind. It had come back then, it had come back when a centaur had thrown her thirty feet against a rock, and it would come back now. In fact, it was already starting to.</p><p>Unfortunately, so was the supermutant.</p><p>Charon rolled with Leah in his arms when the abomination approached and gave a violent downward strike with a heavy wooden beam it at some point taken into its offhand.  Once across the room he let her go and hurried to his feet, stood between her prone form and the mutant and fired again and again into its face.  The spread of the buckshot was wide but from such close range the damage was massive.  An unsettling number of holes ripped their way through the mutant’s flesh and out the back of its head with every shot, and even when the beast was clearly falling Charon pumped the lever of the gun once more and fired his final round into its neck.  Blood splashed back in speckles on his armor and face but the ghoul didn’t seem to mind, stepping back to allow his prey room to collapse.  The helmet it had worn fell from its head and rolled until stopped at Leah’s side.</p><p>“Tough fucker,” he grumbled, reloading his shotgun with an unbothered air of finality.  Leah took a full breath and let it out slowly.</p><p>“I can’t believe you killed it!”  Red was back at the front of her cell, gripping the bars with wide-eyed wonder behind her glasses.  “That’s incredible!”</p><p>Leah pushed herself up to sit against the wall while Charon frisked the body.  A ring of keys was pulled from a clasp of the mutant’s armor and he tossed it in Red’s direction while continuing to search.  He then knelt by Leah’s side, asking again if she was alright.  At least this time she could answer.</p><p>“Knocked the wind out of me when you… when you tackled me,” she said, and took another deep breath just to feel the stretch of her lungs.  “But I’m okay.”</p><p>“Lucky that’s all that happened to you.  Nearly took a fucking grenade to the face.”</p><p>Red freed herself from the cell after a few moments of fumbling with the keys.  It was cold down here, and even with all the adrenaline running through her Leah’s fingers were beginning to feel numb.</p><p>“You’re sure you’re not hurt?” Red asked, approaching.  “I don’t have much in the way of supplies right now, but if we can get back to Big Town I’ll patch you up.”  When Leah assured again that she was fine other than some bruises and a headache and pushed herself up off the ground, she turned to Charon.  “You’re good, too?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“You sure?  Not hurt at all?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“To the being sure part or to the hurt part?”</p><p>Charon stared at her, his mouth a thin, tight line.  He looked back to Leah instead of giving an answer.</p><p>“Someone else is here, too, right?” she asked, and Red nodded.</p><p>“Shorty.  They locked him up somewhere else; I dunno why.  Maybe to keep us from trying to help each other or something.  I haven’t seen in him since we got here, but I saw them lead him down another set of stairs that way.”  She pointed down the hall the supermutant had come from.  “Think I heard them talking about taking us somewhere up north, but they didn’t say why.  Man… and I thought they were just mindless killing machines.  It’s even scarier to think they have some kind of plan.”</p><p>Despite her protests that she was no good with guns, Red took the shotgun Charon had picked up earlier and the trio snuck down to the final sub level of the building.  Some ammo boxes scattered along the hallways and empty rooms refreshed Charon’s supply of ammo and added a comforting weight of grenades to the pack on Leah’s hip, but she found herself reluctant to use them after noticing the way the ceiling’s ancient support beams groaned and one suddenly snapped beneath the weight of its age and a desk crashed down from above not five yards from where they stood.</p><p>Shorty was knelt in a corner, blindfolded with his hands bound so tightly behind his back that they had begun to turn purple.  The mutant guarding him had no helmet to speak of which made him much easier to take down than their previous adversary, but still relatively difficult given his general nature as a mutant.  The combat knife in Charon’s boot did away with the ropes and Red hugged her friend before trying to rub circulation back into his fingers.  For a moment Leah mourned the unexplored parts of the ruins that held treasures untold and surely ammo aplenty, but with two people to escort to safety she knew they couldn’t risk any more supermutant encounters than strictly necessarily.  Charon lead them out in a single-file line with Leah taking up the rear.</p><p>The bodies of the mutants her frag mines had destroyed had begun to stink beneath the wasteland sun and they all eagerly hurried to get upwind of the stench.  Shorty gave a whoop and a holler, exclaiming that he never thought he’d be so happy to see the goddamn sky and Red slung an arm across his shoulders with a grin.  They’d been friends for a long time, Leah assumed, likely since childhood.  She thought of what Pappy had said about Little Lamplight and the children who grew up there.  Red and Shorty must have been residents there, too, once upon a time.  It would explain their names.</p><p>If Big Town had been happy to see Willie, Marrow, and Little Jane then it was downright thrilled to see Shorty and Red.  The first person who saw them approaching called out loud enough for the whole town to hear, “Guys!  Red’s back!  Shorty’s back!  They’re alive!”  Then the rest of the residents came rushing out of their houses and from the town’s various buildings, running up to the front gate to meet their rescued companions.  They were pulled in by those wishing to hug them, Red laughing about how she had been sure she was going to be mutant chow by sundown and Shorty saying that he wasn’t afraid at <em>all</em>.  He would have taken those muties empty handed if it came down to it; that’s why they tied his hands behind his back!</p><p>“I can’t believe you actually got them back,” Pappy said to Leah when the celebration had begun to disperse.  They stood at the edge of town, near where the single guard of the place was posted.  He looked both too old and too young to be there, like a combat veteran stuffed into the body of a teenager.  “I thought for sure you two’d come back with your tails between your legs once you saw that place— no offense, of course.”</p><p>“They aren’t afraid of a couple supermutants,” said Red, approaching them again after the crowd had dispersed.  “Saw them take down the leader no problem.  Not even a scratch on them.”</p><p>“I dunno about that; I’m still breathing kinda funny,” Leah offered, but Red just laughed.  It was a full laugh, the kind directly from the belly and loud enough to be heard all over town.  In the light of day, fading though it was, Leah could better see the happy glint in her eye and the curve of her lips when she smiled.</p><p>“Well if that doesn’t go away by tomorrow come see me in the clinic— if it’s still intact, I mean.  And as for <em>you</em>-” she pointed to Charon.  “<em>You</em>, sir, need to get to the clinic right now so we can take care of that shrapnel in your back.”</p><p>Leah frowned.  “The what?”</p><p>“I’m fine,” Charon insisted, but Red shook her head.</p><p>“You most certainly aren’t fine; to be honest I’m not sure how you’re still walking around like that.  C’mon, just come into the clinic and I’ll fix you up, no charge—”</p><p>Red’s fingers closed around Charon’s wrist and she tugged him insistently into town but Charon stayed rooted to the spot and ripped his hand away.</p><p>“Don’t touch me,” he growled, with such animosity that even Leah jumped back.</p><p>“But you’re hurt,” Red repeated with a frown.  “I couldn’t see it down in the basement but once we came outside I noticed.  You must have gotten hit some by that grenade.  C’mon, I’ll get the debris out and patch you up.”</p><p>“I’m fine.”</p><p>“You’re <em>hurt</em>!”</p><p>“I don’t need a smoothskin to tell me that I’m hurt, and I don’t need you to fix me,” Charon snarled.  “I can take care of it myself.”</p><p>Leah stared as her companion took a few steps away from the group, towards the little house they were using for the night.  It was only then that she registered the cuts in the fabric of Charon’s shirt around his armor and the blood soaking the dark fabric.</p><p>”<em>Charon!</em>” she admonished, but he was already halfway to the door.  Leah watched him for a brief moment, took a second to apologize to Red, then ran off after him.  With his long strides he was through the doorway just before she caught up, and Leah just barely avoided getting hit in the nose by the front door.  </p><p>“Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?!” she demanded.  Her companion didn’t look at her as he spoke, pacing around the small house like an animal in a cage.</p><p>“I said it was fine, and it is.”</p><p>“No it’s not!”</p><p>“It’s nothing.”</p><p>“No it’s <em>not!</em>  You have metal sticking out of your back!”</p><p>“I can take care of it myself.”</p><p>“Can I ask how you plan to do that?”</p><p>Charon huffed.  “I’ve done it before.”</p><p>“Well I’m not letting you do it again.</p><p>Finally he looked at her, stopping in the middle of the empty room and staring hard.  She stared right back, but eye contact had never been a skill of hers and she looked away with a sigh after some seconds.  The pack of supplies she hadn’t brought on the rescue mission sat against a wall, and she began to dig through its contents.</p><p>“I hate doing this,” she said quietly, “but you aren’t giving me a choice.  If you won’t let Red help you then I will, and I’ll make sure of it even if I have to order you.  So Charon, take off your armor, sit backwards in one of those chairs, and wait for me.”</p><p>The force of his stare pressed into the back of her head.  Even with the extra time she took rifling through her medical supplies, he was still looking at her when she turned around.  A growl rumbled up through Charon’s throat as he stood stiff and unmoving in his spot, struggling to disobey, but the force of whatever made him the way he was turned out to be too strong.  He stomped over to the kitchen table, pulled out the only one of the mismatched chairs that looked like he could conceivably fit in, and did as he was instructed.  Leah exhaled.  For his own good or not, the commands tasted bitter on her tongue.  “Alright,” she said.  “Thank you.”</p><p>A bottle of dirty water was poured through a strainer covered in a swatch of cloth, the liquid collected into a pot found in one of the kitchen cabinets and set on the stove.  Somehow it still worked.  Leah set the fire to maximum and, while waiting for that to boil, set up the rest of her instruments: Med-X, tweezers, scissors, gauze, medical tape, needles, surgical thread, a pan, some whiskey, and a bottle of clean water.  Charon watched with a displeased side-eye and said nothing.  His arms rested atop the back of the chair, and his chin on the backs of his hands.  </p><p>“I’m gonna have to cut this off of you,” she sighed, seeing the bits of metal caught on the threadbare fabric of his t-shirt.  “Maybe Wadsworth can fix it up when we get back-”</p><p>“Just cut it,” he bit.  “It’s fine.”</p><p>The fabric was thin and gave way easily to her scissors, some swatches falling away easily while others remained stubbornly hooked on shards of jagged metal until Leah slowly and carefully lifted them off.  When the last scrap was tossed aside she took a step back, assessing exactly what it was she was working with.</p><p>Charon’s back was wide and strong and just as deformed by ghoulification as the rest of him.  Swaths of skin had been burned away by radiation, leaving chords of muscle exposed to the open air.  They flexed when he breathed, when he rolled his neck, when he shifted the placement of his hands beneath his chin.  Lines of scar tissue ran this way and that, crossing skin-muscle barriers at irregular intervals.  That one was a knife wound.  That one was from a bullet.  That one was from an animal attack of some kind.  Each of them was gnarled and ugly and had certainly not received proper treatment to have healed like they did.  If she were to hazard a guess, Leah would have said Charon still had an errant bullet floating around somewhere in his system.</p><p>The shrapnel wounds were at least relegated to the line of his shoulders and his sides where his armor didn’t cover, so there was no risk of serious organ damage.  One bit had made it into the back of his neck but didn’t seem to have hit any kind of important artery, which was lucky.  Other than that Leah counted twelve wounds along his shoulder blades, five down his left side, and a further nine down his right.  Most of the cuts were no larger than her thumb nail but a couple stretched to accommodate metal bits the size of a razor blade, and from one wound stuck a jagged bit of metal that Leah bemusedly thought she could sell to Quinn or Walter for scrap.</p><p>Oh boy.</p><p>“I’m gonna inject some Med-X near the trauma sites to numb-”</p><p>“Just do it,” he snapped.  “You don’t gotta explain everything you’re doing.  Just get it over with.”</p><p>Leah stuck her tongue out at him behind his back.  “Sorry for having good bedside manners.”</p><p>The irradiated water she had put on the fire came to a boil as the Med-X was setting in so she took it off the stove and brought it nearby to watch it cool.  Charon eyed it curiously, but said nothing.  Leah chose not to explain.</p><p>She used whiskey to sterilize her tools then cleaned the wounds with a bit of purified water, catching the bloody droplets that rolled down his back with the scrap from his ruined shirt.  Charon flinched when she laid her left hand against an uninjured expanse of his back to steady herself and carefully tweezed out the first, glimmering little bit of shrapnel.  It made a hollow <em>clang</em> sound when she dropped it into an empty pan.  </p><p>The smallest pieces came easily, and Leah did her work in a satisfied and professional quiet.  Privately, she admitted to herself that it was fascinating to finally get a good look at him and see the differences his angry, gnarled skin had to hers and the places where it gave way to muscle.  Nova had made a comment once about ghouls being all squishy, but Leah thought she would have to correct her on that; Charon’s back was as sturdy and firm as any smoothskin’s and there wasn’t a hint of rot or give.  The exposed muscle was certainly an interesting texture but “squishy” was not an adjective to describe it.</p><p>Charon flinched again and Leah watched the muscles in his shoulders tense when she adjusted the positioning of her palm.  He exhaled harshly through his nasal cavity.</p><p>“Does it still hurt?” she asked.  “I can give you more Med-X if you need.”  Though it had taken twice the amount she predicted to get him numb in the first place.  She’d have to be careful; nothing good would come of getting Charon hooked on chems.</p><p>“Doesn’t hurt,” he huffed in response.  “Get on with it.”</p><p>“You don’t have to act tough; I can see you flinching.”</p><p>“It doesn’t hurt,” he repeated.</p><p>“You promise?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“No it doesn’t hurt or no you don’t promise?”</p><p>He turned to glare at her over his shoulder.  “Just get the damn metal out of me.”</p><p>“Fine, fine…”</p><p>More silence.  More growled breaths.  More <em>clink</em>s and <em>clang</em>s of metal in the pan.</p><p>“…Thank you for saving me,” she eventually said.  “I know it’s your job, and protecting me is in the contract, and bla bla bla but… still.  I was staring that grenade in the face.”</p><p>“You’ve got some of the worst fight or flight skills I’ve ever seen in the wastes,” Charon grumbled.  “Just freeze up like a deer in headlights.”</p><p>“Like a what?”</p><p>“Forget it.  Old saying.  You wouldn’t know it.”</p><p>No, she guessed not.  It was turning out that there were a lot of things Leah didn’t know, that were completely alien to her.  About Charon and his contract, about the world he lived in before it ended.  About her mother and her father and Project Purity and the G.E.C.K.  She didn’t like not knowing things.  She didn’t like being gullible.</p><p>“What was the world like before the war?” she asked, picking another bit of metal from a wound, carefully washing it out, and picking up her needle and thread.  Most of the cuts were only taking two or three stitches.  “I’ve read books and stuff but what was it <em>really</em> like?”</p><p>She took Charon’s lack of a reply as a typical sign that he didn’t want to talk about it, but he surprised her after a few moments of silence by sighing, “…Different.  Really different.”</p><p>“Different how?”</p><p>“Different in every fucking way, smoothskin, where should I start?”</p><p>“Wherever you want.  Tell me something I don’t know.”</p><p>While she picked out the glistening bits of blood-soaked metal, Leah learned about houses and schools and offices and factories, playgrounds and amusement parks and sports stadiums and shopping malls.  She imagined the noise of cars and busses and motorcycles all rushing down roads, hurrying their passengers from place to place.  And the people!  All dressed differently and dressed to impress, not like the bright uniformity of vault suits or the survivalist sepia tones of wasteland gear.  Before the war, people wore dresses and skirts in a rainbow of colors, blouses and button-ups and slacks and hardly ever the same outfit twice!  She’d seen a few people in salvaged pre-war clothes, walking around Megaton and Rivet City or tucked away in Underworld, but the mental image of everyone, everywhere, every <em>day</em> dressing like that was almost too much to imagine.</p><p>“So wait,” she said, stopping Charon in the middle of a detailed explanation of supermarkets, “there were just shelves full of all sorts of food?  And you could just… go in and take whatever you wanted?  <em>Wheneve</em>r you wanted?”</p><p>Charon snorted.  “You had to <em>pay</em> for them, kid.”</p><p>“Well yeah but I mean… anything?  You could go in there and pick out whatever you wanted and take it home?”</p><p>“Yeah?  How’d it work down in the vault?”</p><p>“We had a food synthesizer and a hydroponics lab.  Each family unit was given a certain amount of food every week; some beef or chicken or fish, fruits and veggies, noodles and rice and bread, some spices…  We could use them however we wanted but there weren’t a ton of choices a lot of the time and you kinda had to plan ahead with the hydro lab’s growing schedule.  Like, if you wanted to make apple pie but you ate all of your apples you’d have to wait until the next time you could get some and that could be a month or so depending on what was grown.  The diner always had staples, though.  Burgers and fries and stuff.”  She sighed, then said mostly to herself, “Oh fries sound so good…”</p><p>Charon chuckled.  “I think potatoes out here in the wastes are so mutated the eyes actually stare back at you.”</p><p>Before Leah could express how deeply she hated that concept, she found herself faced with the proverbial elephant in the room that was the approximately palm-sized piece of metal embedded in the back of Charon’s left shoulder.  She had been avoiding it in favor of focusing on the many smaller bits scattered here and there but now there was nothing left to procrastinate on.</p><p>“You’re sure you’re numb?” she asked, tracing around the entrance wound, contemplating if stitches or a stimpak would be better.</p><p>“Yeah, I’m sure.”</p><p>“<em>Really</em> sure?”</p><p>“I think I know if I’m numb or not, kid.”</p><p>“Alright, I hope you’re right.”</p><p>Her free hand pressed against Charon’s mid-back for leverage and she pinched her fingers around the massive thing and pulled it out in all its bloody glory, grimacing at the resistance it gave where sharp ends had dug into vulnerable muscle.  Charon didn’t even flinch.  She stitched the wound closed after washing it out with the last of her water, then took a fresh cloth and wet it with the irradiated water she had set aside before.  When she began carefully wiping down his back with it, Charon finally asked what she was doing.</p><p>“Radiation helps you heal, right?  I boiled this so it’s clean but it’s still irradiated.  I thought this would help patch you up faster.”</p><p>Charon said nothing to that, but the tension that had dropped from his shoulders as he talked about the world as it had once been returned.  He twitched every time she ran the cloth over his skin, carefully catching the drops rolling down with another scrap of fabric at the waistband of his pants.  Once satisfied with her work, Leah mentally patted herself on the back and said, “Alright, all done.  We’ll see about getting the stitches out in a few days.”  </p><p>He was out of the chair and striding across the room towards his pack before Leah could finish the first sentence.  She jostled the pan into which the debris had been dropped and whistled.</p><p>“I still don’t know how you kept walking around with all of this,” she said, pointedly not watching as Charon pulled a new t-shirt over his head.  Somehow that felt like more of an invasion of privacy than the doctoring she had just performed, despite the fact that she had been <em>touching </em>him.  “Didn’t it hurt?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Then why didn’t you tell me?  It’s not like I would yell at you— you got hurt <em>protecting</em> me.”  </p><p>“It did not impact my ability to protect you, so it was not worth mentioning.  I would have handled it myself once you were asleep.”</p><p>Leah stared at him with a furrowed brow as he once again donned his armor, buckling together the chest and backplates and sliding his shoulder pads back into place.  Splatters of fresh blood still colored the leather and metal.</p><p>“Your instructions regarding my duties have been very unclear,” he continued, correctly reading her silence.  “You’ve left me to make guesses about what you would prefer I do, and so I resort to what my previous employers required of me.  Most of them preferred that if I were injured I continue on as normal until they were out of danger.  You were in danger, and so that is what I did.  If that is not what you wanted then it is your own fault for being unclear.”</p><p>“I’d say it’s just as much your fault for assuming you know how I want you to act,” Leah bit, surprised by her own boldness.  Charon turned and looked at her with one brow raised, but she continued.  “I told you I don’t know what I’m doing, and I told you I’m different from your previous owners—”</p><p>“<em>Employers</em>,” Charon bit.  “They were my <em>employers</em>, just as you are now.  I am not owned by anybody.”</p><p>Leah pressed on.  “I told you I’m different from them and I am.  So if what I want from you isn’t clear, you need to ask me!  Because you walking around with grievous bodily harm because you think I’d rather have you as a meat shield than a fully functioning traveling companion is the LAST thing that I want!”</p><p>Charon stared at her with that heavy, forceful gaze of his, and Leah felt her cheeks redden and her eyes begin to fill with frustrated tears.  She wasn’t <em>that</em> upset, truly; more frustrated than anything else.  But the insulting knowledge that he still equated her to the likes of Ahzrukhal mixed terribly with the knowledge that he had every right to.  Just like Ahzrukhal and those before him, she owned his contract.  And just like Ahzrukhal and those before him, it meant Charon would do whatever she commanded without hesitation or question.  He didn’t get hurt protecting her because he cared about her; he got hurt protecting her because he didn’t have a choice.  Her life came before his.  So long as she was safe it didn’t matter if he was sick, hungry, or injured, no matter how much she argued otherwise.  However kind she tried to be or whatever way she spun the facts around in her mind, Leah owned him.</p><p>“If you need help,” she continued softly, closing her eyes against his gaze, “tell me.  Not just if you’re too injured to protect me, but if you’re injured at all.  <em>I will help you.</em>  I’m a doctor’s daughter, Charon, it’s what I was raised to do.  To help.”</p><p>He was still staring at her.  The fog over his blue eyes made her uneasy in times like these.  Made it look like she was staring into the eyes of a corpse.</p><p>“Try saying that when my contract falls into someone else’s hands and they order me to kill you,” he finally said.  “Then you’ll do anything to get rid of me.  You won’t be able to, but you’ll try with everything you have to kill me, and one of the last things you’ll think is how much you wish I was dead.”</p><p>Leah swallowed and shook her head, blinking to keep the frustrated tears in her eyes.  “I wouldn’t ever wish you were dead.”</p><p> He just looked at her for a while longer, hiding what he wanted to say behind clenched teeth.  After a few moments of silence he shouldered his shotgun and made his way towards the door.  “This town is not safe.  I will patrol it tonight and keep watch for threats.  Get some rest.”</p><p>The door didn’t slam as he left but there was an air of finality to Charon’s exit.  Leah watched the space he had occupied for a few lingering seconds, then set about cleaning up the mess she had made.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Chapter titles as suggested by my friend: "Jailbreak", "Blast Radius", "Seeing Red".  They're so good that I thought they were worth a mention, even if I couldn't use them because they go against my rule of "every chapter title is a lyric from a song on my fic inspo playlist".</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Charon Interlude: A Gentle Manner and a Righteous Way</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>This smoothskin, he swears...</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It wasn’t Charon’s place to judge the behavior of his employers, but that had never stopped him before.  Little more than a child, Leah was one of the most foolish people he had ever been made to work under, and definitely the most naive.  Years locked inside of a vault were to blame for that, but it seemed to him that she was almost refusing to learn even now.  The wastes were not kind or empathetic or fair, and while Charon did not believe in being unnecessarily cruel to others, he just as much did not believe in being recklessly kind.  If his employer’s goal was to find her missing father, then what were they still doing in Big Town two weeks after they had first arrived?  He was probably miles and miles away after all that time.  Assuming they even got into Vault 112 at all, which was a slim chance in and of itself, what were the chances of finding any kind of clue that would lead them in the right direction.  The holotapes at the Jefferson Memorial had been pure luck.  She <em>had</em> to know that.</p><p>But still she made no move to leave the town.  Instead, Charon watched her rise each morning earlier than she ever had in Megaton, dressing and dragging herself outside with her pistol on her hip and her shotgun across her back.  While the sun still barely crept over the horizon she roused three or four of the town’s residents and herded them some thirty yards outside the gate, spending the hours from then until lunch teaching them to shoot at empty cans and bottles set up on crates and poles and boxes.  She mimicked what he had taught her before, correcting their postures, their stances, adjusting how they held their weapons.  When they were confident enough she taught them how to reload in swift, easy motions while ducked behind what precious little cover could be found.  Even on the mornings where the want of sleep made her eyelids impossibly heavy and she nearly split her lip with the force of her yawns, Leah still rose and gathered her students and marched out to greet the day.  And although they missed their targets as of them as they hit, she was only ever an encouraging teacher.</p><p>“Lift the barrel a little higher,” she encouraged Willie.  “Yeah- that’s right!  Oh- Timebomb, no don’t close one of your eyes, you need both of them open.  Shorty, it’s not working because you didn’t disengage the safety.”</p><p>The stockpile of weapons and ammunition that had been gathering dust inside of a storage closet became less terrifying each day as Big Town learned how to handle the beasts they had once feared.  Charon didn’t trust them to protect the town, but he at least didn’t fear his employer being accidentally killed by an overzealous teenager.</p><p>At noon the lessons stopped and Leah would return to the house for lunch, after that marching to the work station she had set up for herself beneath the afternoon shade of the building’s awning.  She sat on an overturned wooden crate and, armed with scavenged tools, set upon the repair of two robots she had found resting in the junkyard beneath empty cans and molerat bones.  From afternoon into evening she scrubbed the protectron and robobrain clean of rust, replaced their wires and fission batteries with those salvaged from electronics around town, and buried herself up to the chin in coding that Charon could not even begin to understand.  </p><p>When the sun set she dragged herself inside, smudged and flecked in oil and grease and frustrated with what little progress she had made.</p><p>But then, without fail, she got up the next morning and did it all again.  And again the day after that, and the one after that, and on all subsequent days until—with an excited shout heard clear across the town—it was announced that Big Town was not only protected by its residents but by the two sentries she had worked so hard to restore.  Those who heard the news and cared ran to see them, proudly patrolling one half of the settlement’s south side.  Leah spoke excitedly to Red about how she had figured out the coding and “accessed the robobrain’s internal map” and “copied the protectron’s defense instructions” into the other unit, as if any of that actually made sense.  Charon stood in the shadow of a nearby building, watchful eyes never straying from the horizon.</p><p>He never did trust robots much.  Though, when—after two and a half weeks total—five slavers fell dead from the combined attacks of the town’s electronic protectors and its people, Charon did concede that his employer’s efforts had not been wasted.</p><p>“Tell all your friends that Big Town’s done being picked on!” Shorty yelled at the last remaining attacker, who had begun fleeing for his life after the felling of only two companions.  “We’re done taking your shit!”</p><p>Big Town hailed Leah as a hero, even the girl named Bittercup whom Charon had judged to be the only person in the city less interested than he was in all of this.  A celebration was thrown that night and, satisfied with the work she had done, his employer instructed that they were to leave the next morning.  Red was the most upset out of all of them to see them go.  She hugged Leah as if they had been friends all their lives, making her promise to come visit again.</p><p>“Send any caravans you see our way,” Pappy requested.  “Now that we aren’t losing people every couple of weeks, we’ll need to start stocking up on more supplies!”</p><p>More hugs, more long goodbyes, more thank-yous, thank-yous, and thank-you-agains.  It seemed to Charon that half the day had passed by the time they actually left the town behind.</p><p>“He’s probably not going to be there anymore,” Leah said eventually, some hours into their walk.  She hadn’t spoken to him much since their argument that first night, even when she had commanded him to sit so she could check his wounds and remove the stitches.</p><p>“Nope,” Charon agreed without a trace of hesitation.</p><p>Leah nodded.  “That’s okay,” she eventually decided after seconds of quiet.  “He’s out there somewhere.  We’ll catch up eventually.”</p><p>She squared her shoulders and adjusted her pack, taking longer strides into the day that still did not even come close to matching his own.  Charon shook his head in gentle disbelief.  Foolish, naive, and stubbornly optimistic.  If that didn’t get <em>her</em> killed one day, then it almost certainly would him.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. You've Been Asleep a Little While</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>w̵̼̺̘̼̦̲͚̠̲̹̪̘̾͂̉̈́̊̑̆̇͛͌̕͜͝e̷̢̧̬̰̳̖̦̮͓̳͗͑̽͊̃̿̚͘ļ̸̡̫̳̤̺̬̘̤̮̲̈́̒̾̑͘̚͜͝ͅc̵̻͈͙̻̠͔̲̻̽͐́̇̚͠ǫ̸̲̙̞̟̪̦͙͋͐̓̆̌̀͋̉̏͐̕̕m̸͎̮̳̤͓̗͈̥͔̱͈̟͐̋̑̋͐̕e̷̢̢͕̝̗͚̲̼̬̲̫͇̳̞͂̊̓͘͠ͅ ̸͈̘̭̯̣̮̙̓̆̅́͂̕͠͠ͅt̸̨̨̹̟̦̤͉͚̖͈̱̘̯̩̖̐̓̉ö̵̥̓̉̃̾̽̎̓͛͘͘ ̴̨̬͉̙͈͔̤̩̱̗̼͙͔̲̓T̵̨̘͖̝̤̼̤͖̖͖̖͍̖̤͑̇̉ȓ̸̥̮̭͔̹͕̘ͅą̴̨̦͕̫̝͔̯̥͛̍̃̎͆ṋ̴͓̹̳͚̝̄̏͐̆͝q̶̻͉̤͓͓̺͒̽͛̌̑̈ư̸̢͚̆̉̊̆̍͛̚i̷̪̥͇̦̳̯͇͒͑̿͒̚͘͜ͅĺ̴̺̰͖̲̈́̐͜i̴̠̙͓̗̯͈͑̋́̓̌̂̓͜ṭ̵̲̪̤̀̓̿̓̀̄͊̄̀̿̓͛̓͝͠y̸̧̛̯̻̤̝̺̘͖͂͒̐͊̾͛̽̒͗̚͠͝͝ͅ ̴̺̱͈̜̰͇̮͌̒̅̊̐͊̌̐̍͛̅̾̚L̶̥͎̻̟̤͇̲̘̻̝̗͙͒̃̃̉͑͊̈̆̅́͐̚͠ą̶̩͙̜̞̙͖̖̙͂̕͜ͅn̷̡̨̨̬̱͚̗͇̲̞̘̾͝ę̴̛̙̗̅͊͂̓̾̍͒̈͝͝</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Down a dimly illuminated hallway behind a door marked Vault 112—the door itself being down another dark hallway beneath a secret hatch within the floor of a pre-war garage—Leah stood with trepidation at the silence she was facing.</p><p>“There’s nobody here,” she said to Charon, who stood beside her.  “Why isn’t there anybody here?”</p><p>“Probably all died off,” he shrugged.  “There’s plenty of vaults in the wastes, kid.  Most of them didn’t last as long as yours, from what I know.”</p><p>The eternal hum of machinery was so much more omnipresent than Leah remembered.  She had fallen asleep to this noise, the subtle vibration that shook in her bones.  She had breathed this clean, recycled oxygen for most of nineteen years and never noticed how stale and dry it made her mouth until being free of it.  Was it possible she had grown at all since stumbling out into the world, or were Vault 112’s hallways that much narrower than her home’s had been?</p><p>Only static broke the silence when she flipped through radio-frequencies with her Pip-Boy.  No vault-wide alerts, no news, no music.  Even GNR’s signal couldn’t make it through however many feet of dirt and lead-lined steel buried them.</p><p>“Hello?” she called with another step forward.  “Helloooooo?  Is anybody in here?  We’re coming in- please don’t attack us?”  </p><p>Charon kept his weapon drawn as they walked.  Leah wished he wouldn’t; she couldn’t even think of how the guards would have reacted back home if a stranger had ever walked in with a weapon out.</p><p>“We don’t mean you any harm,” she continued.  “I’m just looking for somebody.  Can anyone help me?”</p><p>No one came.  Her voice echoed down the impossibly long hallway and back, now distorted and unfamiliar.  As they walked Leah’s confusion only grew- what was the point of this hallway?  For as long as they walked there had not been a single other portion to the structure; no apartments or common areas, no diners or hydroponics labs, not even a window looking down on a lower area.  It was just one long, continuous stretch of dark.</p><p>“Something isn’t right about this place,” said Leah with a tremble.  “This isn’t… this isn’t what a vault is supposed to be like.”</p><p>“Do you wish to turn back?” Charon asked.</p><p>The reply that was meant to come left the entire vicinity of Leah’s mind when she turned the first corner they had encountered since entering Vault 112 and was immediately met with the friendly greeting of, “Hello, vault residents” from the robobrain that had been sitting there for, presumably, the past 200 years.  Charon hurried to lift his gun but when the robot made no apparently hostile movements she signaled for him to relax.</p><p>“Hello.  Can you tell me where the Overseer is, please?”</p><p>“You have arrived approximately 202.3 years behind schedule,” the robobrain continued through its automated message.  “Please proceed and enter your tranquility pods to join the others.”</p><p>“Our what?”</p><p>“Please proceed and enter your tranquility pods to join the others.”</p><p>“What’s a-”</p><p>“Please proceed and enter your tranquility pods to join the others.”</p><p>They continued past the robot before it could ask them again.  </p><p>Down another hallway and a set of stairs opened a room unlike any Leah had seen before.  It was large and circular and filled with humming technology.  A dozen or so machines, each the shape of an egg and the size of a small car, were spaced equidistantly in a circle and turned towards what she could only assume to be a large computer directly in the center.  An assortment of wires ran from each of these into various panels in the computer’s surface.  Various lights on all machines blinked at random intervals.  She approached one and peaked through the glass-domed top, finding that inside was the figure of a woman in a blue vault suit, head covered with a helmet that extended from the top of the pod, obscuring her features.  A small screen in front of her face seemed to be playing a movie, but it was much too small for Leah to make out what was going on.</p><p>The next pod held a man in the same state.  Next was another man, then a woman, then a child.  Two pods were empty.  In total there were nine adults and one child, each enclosed in a case of glass and metal.  Leah would have thought them dead if not for the faint motion of breathing and the screen at the side of each pod that displayed its occupant’s vitals.</p><p>Leah swallowed down the swirling puddle of anxiety that this place and its sterile darkness instilled in her.  Now wasn’t the time to be nervous.</p><p>She stopped at the final pod as she examined it, noticing how the person inside did not wear a vault suit like all the others.  Instead, the man inside wore the browns and greys typical of a wasteland traveler, and covered in the expected amount of dust.  Leah recognized the boots he wore, though; they were standard-issue vault gear.  She had been wearing an identical pair since leaving 101.  A wedding band of dull metal circled his left ring finger.  Leah switched on the light of her pip-boy and held it up as high as she could towards the man’s face.  From so far down the light cast strangely-angled shadows below the helmet’s visor, but it was all she needed for a confirmation of familiarity.</p><p>“Dad!”</p><p>There he was.  After all the time spent searching and wandering the wastes, ignoring the little voice in the back of her mind saying she was too late and she would never see him again, there he was.  Leah’s heart jumped into her throat and she gave a formless shout of excitement that made Charon start.  She rapped on the glass, then pounded on it with her fist when that got no reaction but was disappointed a second time.  Once, twice, three times she circled the perimeter of the machine in search of a control panel or release button but found nothing, growing frantic and impatient as excitement and anxiety twisted through her every limp.  With no other ideas she pulled her pistol from her belt and aimed at the glass, but Charon’s hand clasped her wrist.</p><p>“Don’t, smoothskin,” he said.  “You can’t force him out.”</p><p>Leah’s chest was heaving, her fingers shaking.  She wouldn’t be a very good shot like this, but that was the last thing on her mind.  “What?”</p><p>Charon’s gaze wandered up and down the machine slowly, considering it.  “That’s a virtual reality pod.  His brain’s hooked up to it.  Forcing him out’ll damage his mind; you gotta get him to leave on his own or find a way to turn the whole simulation off.”</p><p>Leah stowed her gun away when Charon released her, staring at him curiously.  “How do you know what they are?”</p><p>Charon was quiet for a long few seconds, shifting his weight between his feet.  “…Used to be in the military,” he finally said.  “We used them for training.  Run a simulation, put the new recruits in, let them mess up in there instead of out here in the real world where the people could get hurt, that kinda thing.”  He shook his head.  “Ancient history now.”</p><p>That raised twice as many questions as it answered.  But knowing Charon as she did now, Leah stowed them away for a later time.</p><p>“So all these people,” she said instead, “they’re living in a simulation?  A fake world?”</p><p>“That’s my guess.”</p><p>“But why?  This is a vault— people are supposed to live in here.”</p><p>Charon shrugged, running his hand along the glass casing of her father’s pod.  “These things are more advanced than the ones I ever saw; probably been keeping these people alive all this time.  They haven’t even aged.”  He laughed a little, bitter and hard.  “Poor bastards.  Been in here so long they don’t even know the damn world ended.”</p><p>Leah stared at him, the weight of that settling into her bones.</p><p>“Anyway,” he continued, “there’s normally a command module out here but I don’t see one.  You’ll have to wait for him to come out on his own.”</p><p>“How long will that take?”</p><p>“He’s your dad, kid, how the hell should I know?”</p><p>“But it already took us so long to get here— he’s probably been in there for weeks.  Shouldn’t he be done by now?”</p><p>Charon shrugged.  “Like I said, kid, how the hell should I know?  Maybe he likes it in there.”</p><p>But Leah knew her father.  Perhaps not as well as she once thought she had, but she knew him.  It had taken them months to get to Vault 112 he should have been more than finished in that time.  Something was wrong with all of this.  Very wrong.  If he hadn’t come out of the simulation yet then it wasn’t for lack of trying.  He was trapped.</p><p>Leah looked around at the ten occupied pods, her gaze lingering on the two empty ones at either side of the room.  Charon caught her look and its meaning without a single word exchanged between them and gave a very long, very resigned sigh.</p><p>—-</p><p>Entering Tranquility Lane felt like waking up from a very long dream in a very deep sleep. For a few moments everything was hazy around the edges, Leah’s mind fuzzy as it struggled to adjust to its new reality.  The sun sure was bright, she could tell that much.  And there were… birds?  Was that what birds used to sound like?  A warm breeze passed over her face as she blinked the rest of the haziness from her vision and got a good first look at her surroundings.</p><p>She was on a white stretch of sidewalk that lead into a cul-de-sac on a warm summer afternoon.  Identical houses sat in identical plots of land around the dead end and stretched down the street to… somewhere.  The harder Leah looked the blurrier it all became.  It gave her a headache.</p><p>Instead, she looked at what wasn’t blurry, the houses and cars and playground set up on the patch of land in the middle of the rounded section of the street.  A perfect vision of pre-war life.  At least, Leah assumed it was.  She had read books about this kind of thing, and seen a few pictures.</p><p>“What the hell?”</p><p>Leah turned on her heel at the exclamation from a voice so familiar and so new.  Beside her on the pavement was a young man, tall and well built and with deep red hair pushed back out of his face.  He had a sturdy jaw and sharp cheekbones and wore well-fitted army fatigues like the kind she had seen in old pre-war recruitment posters.  He looked around with a scowl and sharp, searching eyes that, when they landed on her, were shockingly blue.</p><p>“<em>Charon?</em>”</p><p>He raised an eyebrow.  “Smoothskin?”</p><p>Leah laughed.  “Who’re you calling smoothskin, smoothskin?”</p><p>“What’s that supposed to mean?”</p><p>Without his vocal chords fried by radiation and time, Charon’s voice was smooth and clear.  He raised a hand to scratch, did a double-take at the wholeness and intact-ness of his fingers and hands and arms, then pressed those hands to the planes of his face and let his eyes grow wide.  He felt his cheeks and jaw and pinched the bridge of his nose, ran a hand through his hair and took a deep, shuddering breath.</p><p>“Fuck,” he cursed.  “I forgot how fucking real these things are.”</p><p>Leah nodded.  It was <em>startlingl</em>y realistic.  From the breeze to the birds to her dress to her shiny, black, buckled shoes and wait a second.  Charon was always tall, but why did Leah suddenly find herself eye-level with his belt buckle?</p><p>“Why am I so short?” she asked, noticing that her voice was most definitely <em>not</em> her voice.  Charon snapped out of his semi-stupor to look back down at her.</p><p>“Because you look like you’re about eight years old.”</p><p>“What?!”</p><p>Finding very little on her person in the way of a usable mirror, Leah settled for the next best thing which was one of the windows on the nearest house.  It was a little high so he only got a good look from the shoulders up but that told her plenty; just as Charon had said, she wasn’t just the <em>height</em> of a little girl, she <em>was</em> a little girl.  Her long red hair was twisted into two braids and tied with little ribbons that matched the color of her dress, her legs covered in white tights with black polka-dots and feet fitted snugly into black Mary Janes.  Charon came up behind her, examining his own reflection in the glass with a look of wide-eyed bewilderment.  He messed up his hair, pushed it back into place, fiddled with the buttons on his jacket.  His nails were short and clipped, fingers calloused and rough but <em>whole</em>.</p><p>He turned suddenly away from the window and strode back to the sidewalk so quickly that it took running on her child-sized legs for Leah to catch up to him.</p><p>“Let’s find your dad and get out of here,” he said.  “This place gives me the creeps.”</p><p>“Isn’t it like pre-war life?  Is something wrong with it?”</p><p>“I said it gave me the creeps,” he repeated.  “I didn’t say it wasn’t accurate.”</p><p>An older man with glasses and a red baseball cap stopped them on their way down the street.</p><p>“Well I’ll be!” he said.  “Is it that time already?  Didn’t know you were set to come back to us for another month!  Good to have you back, son, good to have you back.  Bet you showed those commies what a red-blooded American man is made out of, huh?”</p><p>The man reached for Charon’s hand and took it into his own, giving it a forceful shake that Charon seemed to return purely out of reflex.  If the stranger noticed the confusion on his face he didn’t say anything about it.</p><p>“Bet you’re glad to have your big brother back home with you, aren’t you, sweetheart?” the man asked, now addressing Leah.  “Here, have some candy to celebrate!  I’ve got caramels— your favorite!”</p><p>“What?  I—”</p><p>He pulled a handful of candies from one of the many pockets in his blue mechanic’s jumpsuit and, like with the handshake, pushed them into Leah’s hands with no time or room for argument.  Then he patted her on the head, patted Charon on the shoulder, and continued on his walk.</p><p>“…I can’t decide what the weirdest part of that was,” Leah eventually said when the man was out of earshot.  “Why did he act like he knows us?  Why does he think we’re related?  Is he an AI?  You said there are AI in these things, right?”</p><p>“The simulation’s been tampered with,” Charon replied.  “That’s a real person, but his memories are altered.”</p><p>“How can you tell?”</p><p>“Just can.  He’s probably being force-fed a fake reality so that everything around him makes perfect sense.  He sees a guy dressed as a soldier, his brain tells him he lives here and is home from deployment.  Sees a little girl tagging along, brain tells him it’s the solider’s little sister.”</p><p>“Instead of just letting him know someone new entered the simulation?”</p><p>“Smoothskin, I don’t think he knows he’s in one.”</p><p>As it turned out, none of the residents knew.  Leah and Charon made their way around the circular street, talking to each person they passed with much the same conversation happening each time: they congratulated Charon on returning home, said he made the country proud, ruffled Leah’s hair and said how happy she must have been to have her big brother back.  Any attempts to talk about the simulation or Braun or the G.E.C.K. were met with, “Oh, what crazy imaginary games are you two playing today?”  If Leah asked about her father they would say, “I haven’t seen him around today, but I’m sure he’ll turn up!”  She asked again if Charon was sure these people were <em>people</em> and not AI, because their responses were so very predictable, but he was convinced.</p><p>“You’re a kid, kid,” he said.  “Nobody around here’s gonna take you seriously, even if they knew what you were talking about.”  </p><p>All in all, dead ends were abound.  Deciding to sit and think a while they bought two glasses of lemonade that Timmy Neusbaum was selling for a nickle each when Charon found some change in one of his pockets.  It was sweet and tangy and perfectly refreshing on such a warm day.</p><p>“Did you kill a bunch of bad guys?” Timmy asked Charon.  He was a child no older than Leah appeared to be, scrawny and with pale hair and a crooked-toothed smile.  “My dad says soldiers go to China and kill all the evil communists so they don’t take over the world.”</p><p>“Yeah,” replied Charon, not specifying which question he was answering.</p><p>“My dad was in the army,” the little boy continued.  “He wants me to be, too, when I grow up.  But I don’t wanna.”</p><p>“Then don’t.”</p><p>When an old lady approached Timmy’s lemonade stand and bought a glass, she accompanied the purchase with a question.  “Timmy,” she asked, “would you be a dear and go fetch my sun hat from my house?  I forgot it, and it’s so hard to walk all that way on these old legs of mine but the sun is just so bright today and it’s hurting my eyes.”</p><p>“Sure thing, Mrs. Dithers!”</p><p>“Oh, thank you, darling.  I don’t quite remember where I put it; perhaps in my living room? But it may be in my bedroom.  You just go have a good look around until you find it.”</p><p>He was off in a flash towards the old woman’s house while she herself sipped her lemonade and carefully lowered herself to sit beside Leah on the curb.  She had dark skin and wore a long, white skirt and a cardigan despite the heat; the very picture of a grandmother.  Leah smiled politely at her and sipped her own drink, expecting much the same conversation to play out just as it had eight times already.</p><p>“You two aren’t from here,” said Mrs. Dithers after a few seconds of peaceful silence.</p><p>Both Leah and Charon’s heads snapped towards her.  “How do you know that?”</p><p>“I know a lot of things that nobody else around here seems to know.  Like how none of this is real, and we’re all just asleep and dreaming.”  He sipped her lemonade again.  “But the dream has become a nightmare, and none of us can wake up.”</p><p>“A nightare?” asked Leah.  “This doesn’t seem so bad.”</p><p>Mrs. Dithers laughed.  “It does seem nice, doesn’t it?  You’d never know the hell we’re going through— dying again and again in endlessly painful ways, only to wake up and do it all again for his amusement.”</p><p>“His?  Whose?”</p><p>The old woman didn’t answer.  She stared off into the distance and raised her lemonade cup to her lips.  Then she sighed and turned back to the newcomers.  Leah studied her eyes, full of deep sadness and loneliness that pierced her to the core.  “How long has it been?” she asked.  “Since the bombs fell.  How many years?”</p><p>Leah’s voice caught in her throat.  “Two… two hundred years.”</p><p>Not a trace of surprise crossed Mrs. Dithers’ old, worn face.  She just nodded slowly, staring off again into the distance.  “Two hundred years, trapped in this hell.  Funny.  I thought it had been much longer.”  She looked to Charon.  “Are you a soldier in the real world, as well?  Or is this a costume he’s put you in for show?”</p><p>The ease of Charon’s response surprised Leah.  “I’m a soldier.”</p><p>“So there’s still war?”</p><p>He nodded.  “Every day, ma’am.”</p><p>Then she looked to Leah.  “And what about you?  I doubt a girl as little as you found her way into Vault 112.”</p><p>“I’m not <em>this</em> little, at least,” she giggled, which was the only laugh she really seemed capable of in such a young body.  “I don’t know why I look like this.”</p><p>“He probably wants a new playmate,” the old lady sighed.  “And what better than a little girl just his size?  So small and unassuming.”  She laughed when Leah’s gaze flickered back to the lemonade stand, waving her hand to dismiss the idea.  “No, dear, not Timmy.  Timmy’s a sweet boy.  He couldn’t hurt a fly.”</p><p>Speaking of, that very boy came running back down the street, waving Mrs. Dithers’ hat in his hand like a flag.  The old woman pushed herself to her feet as he approached, quickly adding, “Please get us out of here.  He watches all of us so carefully, but you’re different!  There’s a failsafe, a terminal you can access.  I don’t know where it is, but <em>please</em> find it.”</p><p>Her pleasant, placid smile returned as Timmy approached with her hat and held it out to her with a polite, “Here you go, Mrs. Dithers!”</p><p>“Why, thank you, Timmy.  Say, you’ve worked so very hard today.  Why don’t you go play with Betty for a while over on the playground?”</p><p>He visibly shrank at the suggestion.  “Betty said I can’t go on the playground, and nobody goes on the playground unless Betty says so.  That’s the rule.”</p><p>“Oh, yes, I suppose you’re right.”  Her gaze turned back to Leah and Charon.  “Perhaps you should go play with her, dear.  I’m sure she’d be so very excited to have a playmate again, and you’re just her size.  Oh, but enough of my rambling.  I think I’ll take a bit of a walk before supper.”</p><p>Leah looked to Charon, whose sharp gaze was trained on the small playground set up in the middle of the cul-de-sac’s roundabout.  It was a simple thing: a slide, a merry-go-ground, a set of monkey bars and some swings.  A large dog lay slumbering beneath the shade of a tree, and a little girl with dark hair watered the flowers by the fence.</p><p>None of the tranquility pods had contained a little girl.</p><p>Running in shiny, buckled shoes was harder than Leah would have thought and she missed the sturdy brown boots of her everyday gear.  She also missed being more than half of Charon’s height and not having to take four steps for every one of his.</p><p>“Oh, goodie!” said the little girl as they entered.  She set down her watering can and clapped.  “New friends to play with!  My name’s Betty.  What’re yours?”</p><p>None of the other residents had asked for their names.  “I’m Leah,” she said.  “And this is Charon.”</p><p>The girl wrinkled her nose.  “Charon?  That’s a weird name.  Well, whatever.  Let’s play!”</p><p>Betty’s sudden grip around her wrist was like iron and made Leah recoil instinctively, but her new friend did not let go.  Her other hand fisted in the sleeve of Charon’s jacket and she pulled them towards the edge of the grass.  “I have a REALLY fun game we can play,” she said.  “It’s called ‘Make Timmy Neusbaum Cry!”  Won’t that be so fun?”</p><p>Leah tried to wrangle her wrist back without success.  Betty’s grip was impossibly strong for a little girl.</p><p>“Actually—” she tried to say, wincing at the pain in her wrist.  “—we were wondering—I’m looking for my dad, have you seen him?  He came here looking for Dr. Braun and I know he’s in here but I can’t find him—”</p><p>Betty stopped, thankfully releasing her captive’s wrist and clapping again.  “Oh, what a wonderful turn of events!  I had no idea the two of you were related— I thought I was just having a bout of good fortune to have three new friends in such a short amount of time.”</p><p>“So you’ve seen him!”</p><p>“Yes, but I’m afraid he’s rather unavailable at the moment.  Perhaps if you do what I say, I’ll give you a hint!”</p><p>There was something incomprehensibly but undeniably <em>wrong</em> with the little girl’s smile, something in her eyes too clever and knowing, something in her face too twisted.  It wasn’t enough to notice if one didn’t really look, but Leah saw it and a deep, dark pit of fear opened wide in her stomach.  Mrs. Dithers’ words played back in her mind: <em>the dream has become a nightmare, and all for his amusement.</em></p><p>“We’re gonna play my game now.”</p><p>“We’re not gonna play your damn game,” Charon snarled, turning to stare her down.  All 6’8” of him against someone who hadn’t even hit the four foot threshold.  “You know what’s going on, so spit it out.”</p><p>Betty frowned, and the wrongness in this expression was much easier to see.  Twisted.  Furious.  Dark.</p><p>“I don’t think you understand how this works,” she said, but gone was the voice of the little girl that she appeared to be.  Instead came that of an older man with a thick, harsh accent Leah had never heard before.  “<em>I</em> am in charge of this place, and I make the rules.  You’re going to play my game, because that is what I tell you to do.  And if you don’t, well, who knows what kind of fun things I could think up for you to do?  Computer simulations are a very wonderful thing; once you know the coding you can make anything happen!  And if you want to know what happened to your father, then you should do as I say before I make something even <em>worse</em> happen to him.”</p><p>Never in her life had words made Leah’s heart drop into her stomach as violently as it did now, and she had heard some pretty cruel things from the Tunnel Snakes.  Her mouth flapped, mind short circuiting between questions and threats and the suggestion of tears burning in her throat.  “What did you— where is—”</p><p>“I’m not gonna tell you~” Betty sing-songed, her voice now back to its appropriate range.  “Not until you do what I say, at least.  This is my world, after all!  Everyone has to listen to me!  Y’know, your daddy thought he could just come up and demand answers from me, too!  He had to learn the hard way that I tired of being Stanislaus Braun some years ago, and now I’m just… Betty!  And I just wanna play some games.”  She grinned even wider, swaying her hips with her hands clasped behind her back.  “You won’t be that stupid, will you?”</p><p>Charon snarled and reached back for his shotgun but his fists grabbed only empty air, and Betty laughed.  “Go on, little soldier boy~  Take your little friend and go, and don’t come back here until you’ve made Timmy wanna die or I’ll make you wish you’d never been born at all!”</p><p>Shaking with the force of her nerves, Leah was frozen to the spot until Charon placed his hand on her shoulder to rouse her from her stupor.  Her legs still trembled as she walked and she tripped over her own foot as they crossed the street back to the neat circle of houses surrounding them, scraping her knee bloody and tearing open her tights.  She gasped out a barely-contained sob and rolled to sit and inspect the damage, but the sound of claws on pavement and a cool, wet snout pressing against her shoulder quite handily distracted her from that.</p><p>“Huh?”</p><p>The dogs Leah had encountered in the wastes were wild, rabid things bent on destruction and the consumption of her flesh, but she had read plenty of stories about the domesticated sort.  They were supposed to be loyal, loving creatures full of energy that a child could spend all day running around with, then curl up with on the floor to nap.  It was hard to look at this one and <em>not</em> see its gigantic pointed teeth that could rip her throat apart without hesitation, but it certainly <em>seemed</em> nice.</p><p>It whined and whimpered and nuzzled under her chin, tail wagging when Leah giggled through her tears.  “Hey there,” she greeted, raising a hand up to pat the canine’s head and fondle its ears.  “I’m okay… I’m okay, don’t worry.”</p><p>The dog whimpered again and licked her face, displacing Leah’s glasses and covering them in slobber.  She laughed and rubbed the dog’s ears again; it seemed to like that.</p><p>Of course, Betty had to ruin the fun.</p><p>“Doc!” she called from the playground, hands planted on her hips.  “Bad dog!  Get back here right now!”</p><p>Immediately, the dog’s demeanor changed.  It turned with a bark, lowering its head and raising its hind end with a growl.</p><p>“Get back here!” Betty repeated.  “Now!  I won’t say it again, Doc!”</p><p>Doc growled again, but this time the noise morphed into a whimper.  He turned again to Leah and nuzzled under her chin, then marched back towards the playground with his tail between its legs, shying away from the hand that came down to pet him.</p><p>“Sorry,” she called with sickening sweetness.  “He’s not very well trained yet; I just got him.”</p><p>---</p><p>They weren’t going to make a little boy cry, that much was for sure.  </p><p>Under the guise of searching for something creative to start the torture off with, Leah and Charon searched through the houses of Tranquility Lane’s residents, none of whom seemed to mind this in the slightest.  Unsurprisingly, though, there was no failsafe to be found.  Nothing in the back yards, either, or the front.  Just the adults all idling the day away.  Mrs. Henderson was baking a pie.  Mr. Neusbaum and Mr. Rockwell were chatting about sports.  Old Lady Dithers was making her umpteenth circle around the cul-de-sac.</p><p>Nobody had seen her dad.  Nobody had seen anything unusual.  Nobody seemed fussed when she began to cry, just nudging her towards Charon and sighing that she was getting far too old to be throwing tantrums, and when her father <em>did</em> come back he wouldn’t be happy to hear about her behavior.  Of course, that only made her cry harder.</p><p>Eventually, fed up with either her, the other residents, or both, Charon scooped Leah up so she was sitting on his arm and ducked into the only unoccupied house on the block.  She heard the <em>click</em> of the door’s lock behind them right before she was settled onto an old, dusty sofa in the middle of the room.</p><p>“I don’t know how much longer I can do this,” she hiccuped after a few minutes, still sniffling.  “Nobody’s even <em>seen</em> him what if— What if Braun or Betty or whatever they call themself—”</p><p>“Your dad’s not dead,” Charon said, sitting against a nearby wall.  “His vitals showed he was stable out in the vault, yeah?  So he’s in here somewhere.”</p><p>Leah sniffled and wiped her nose on the hem of her dress because it didn’t have sleeves.  Charon continued, “Besides, I think the fact that we can’t get out is a little bit more important.”</p><p>Acting every bit the part of the child she was forced to play, Leah stuck out her tongue in Charon’s direction and was surprised to see him respond in kind.  For all the frustration building up inside of her tiny body, a flurry of giggles rang around the empty house.  Charon seemed… different in the simulation.  More at ease not with the situation but at least with himself.  Less defensive.  Less guarded.  Definitely more talkative.</p><p>It was a warm summer day on Tranquility Lane, and some time ago Charon had removed the jacket of his fatigues and tied it around his waist.  Leah could see how his muscles pressed against the remaining white tank top, how firm and well built his chest was and how strong the arms she had been carried in were.  They were incredibly easy things to notice, but she was struck by confusion that the thoughts had entered her mind at all, especially while trapped in the body of an eight year old.</p><p>“It has to be somewhere,” she sighed, back to the topic at hand.  “I mean, it HAS to, right?  If you can get into a simulation, there has to be a way <em>out</em> of it.  Right?”  Charon didn’t reply.  “…You’re the expert here, back me up.”</p><p>“I wouldn’t call myself an expert.”</p><p>“Well you’ve used one of these things before and I haven’t, so you’re an expert in comparison.”</p><p>“How long have we been looking, anyway?  I don’t think Betty’s gonna wait forever.”</p><p>Leah tapped the Vault Boy watch strapped to her wrist in place of her pip-boy.  “It’s been 2:55pm since we got here.  Could be ten minutes, could be ten days, who knows?”</p><p>Charon grunted.  They sat together in the quiet coolness of the house for what could have been hours, Leah’s watch ticking in unmoving seconds.  From a pile of random objects on a side table Charon pulled a hand mirror, holding it up to his face and studying his reflection.  He ran a finger along his features: eyebrows, cheekbones, chin, the bridge of his nose.  Then he stared into his own eyes, turning his face side to side and barely blinking as a few strands of hair fell back into his face.</p><p>“Is it weird seeing yourself like this again?” Leah asked after more silence.  Charon didn’t look away from himself.</p><p>“Is it weird seeing yourself as a kid?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Take that and multiply it by about two hundred years.”</p><p>He set down the mirror and looked at his hands, his arms.  In his moving form Leah could see the ghosts of exposed muscle patches, the echo of scars.  It was so easy to imagine what he looked like back in their world, in the <em>real</em> world.  But just as easily could she imagine this Charon, young and whole and radiation free, home from deployment and living on some idyllic street just like this one.  He had to have had a family once; parents, maybe siblings, maybe a partner he wrote letters home to and who said they missed his smile and his laugh and his warmth.  Who he maybe planned to marry one day, once everything calmed down.</p><p>But that world was gone.  Tranquility lane was just a cheap recreation, a decrepit old memory with a shiny  paint job.</p><p>Leah sighed and laid sideways on the couch, reaching out for the radio resting on its arm if only for something to do.  The stations unsurprisingly produced nothing but static until the dial turned all the way to the right and the radio let out a sudden <em>ping</em> that made Charon look up.  Quietly, a song began to play.  It was simple and repetitive and very out of place.</p><p>“What is that?” Charon asked, pushing himself up off the floor.  </p><p>“I’m not sure?  I just turned it on, I didn’t think there would actually be something.”  </p><p>Meaning to make himself room to sit, Charon picked up a glass pitcher that was, for some reason, resting on one of the couch cushions, but when he did so another <em>ping</em> rang out through the room.</p><p>They stared at each other.</p><p>“…I think we might have found something.”</p><p>It wasn’t a complicated puzzle, once they figured out what they were doing.  The song on the radio was a simple, seven-note melody repeated again and again and again ad nauseam and got stuck in Leah’s brain like a virus.  Certain objects within the abandoned house played a note when touched, and when Leah and Charon played those notes in the right order (after a lot of trial and error, it should be noted) a computer terminal materialized out of one of the walls.  And the terminal wasn’t even password protected.</p><p>Braun’s journals were a goldmine of information.  There had been other simulations before this one; a tropical lagoon where his victims died of scurvy and were eaten by sharks, a picturesque ski resort where they were impaled on fences and buried in avalanches, and then finally this place— Tranquility Lane.  An idyllic, simple life straight from the memories of its residents where their senses of safety and well-being were ripped away from them again and again and again while he played his twisted games.  170 years spent on that simulation alone in an endless purgatory of death and forceful rebirth with none but Braun and Mrs. Dithers remembering a thing.</p><p>“He’s a monster,” Leah concluded with horror.  “He’s <em>deranged</em>- he’s using these people as… as playthings!  How could anyone find <em>pleasure</em> in this?!”  </p><p>“They say time can warp the mind,” Charon offered.  “Perhaps he has been alive for too long.”</p><p>“He’s been doing this from the start.  Besides, you’re as old as he is, and you would never do something like this.”</p><p>“How are you so sure?”</p><p>“I just am.”</p><p>Charon was quiet for a moment.  “Some people are just evil bastards.”</p><p>Her stomach twisted into violent, seizing knots.  A vault was supposed to be a safe place, one of protection from the outside world and the hardships of a nuclear wasteland.  But these people had been trapped here for so long, dying again in endlessly painful and horrifying ways.  People who had been promised safety and hope.</p><p>Leah kept reading.</p><p>In his newest journal entry, Braun rejoiced over the acquisition of a new plaything; a man searching for the G.E.C.K. who had “so foolishly entered my world” of his own volition.</p><p>“He asks too many questions and bothers me with his troublesome morals,” wrote Braun.  “No fun to play with at all, but he is clever.  I think I will have to keep on a… very short leash.”</p><p>“The dog,” Charon said at the exact moment that Leah realized it, too.  “That’s gotta be him, kid.  I thought it was weird before— if it was an AI it’d just do whatever Betty wanted, but he didn’t wanna behave.  You found him.”</p><p>She had.  And she hated Stanislaus Braun with every fiber of her being.</p><p>There was very little else of interest within the terminal.  The coding for the simulation was eons beyond what Leah could understand so she didn’t even try, but there was one very glaring elephant in the room as far as her options went.  It was just a small line of text beneath the different journal entries, unassuming in its placement and so easily glanced over.</p><p>
  <em>Activate: Chinese Invasion Program</em>
</p><p>The warning that came when she selected the command was clear: if it ran, the failsafe keeping the residents alive would be disabled.  If they died within the simulation, their physical bodies in the real world would die, as well, save for Braun who, by admission of his own journal entries, would be kept alive by the Vault-Tec safety protocols he had no way to change.  If the others died then he would be stranded all alone in a world of his creation with naught but virtual intelligence to keep him company.</p><p>Leah thought that to be more than he deserved after taking such cruel advantage of people who only wanted protection from the horrors of war that were knocking at their doorsteps.</p><p>“Would you like me to do it?” Charon asked, and his voice made Leah jump.</p><p>“Huh?”</p><p>“Would you like me to do it?” he repeated.  “To press the button, activate the command.  You seem reluctant.”</p><p>She looked down at the keyboard.  “I don’t know.  I feel like I should, like it’s my responsibility somehow.”</p><p>“It isn’t.  I have killed for you before.”</p><p>“Not like this.”</p><p>“That is true,” Charon admitted.  “I do not think I have ever killed people who would be so willing to die.”</p><p>They stood together for a long time in the chilly quiet of that house.  Seconds and minutes and hours and days ticked by.  The time was 2:55pm.</p><p>The <em>click</em> of the enter key beneath Leah’s fingertip registered before the thought of what she had done, and way before the opportunity to second guess herself could emerge.  The consequences of that tiny action made themselves known instantly.</p><p>Leah blocked her ears from the sound of a dozen or more assault rifles firing over and over again just outside the door.  There was shouting in Chinese she couldn’t understand, screams of confusion and fear and pleas for mercy from residents.</p><p>What had she done?</p><p>The right thing?</p><p>Was she supposed to hate herself for it?</p><p>Charon grabbed her again around the waist and held her small body to his as he sprinted for the door, pushing past the army of shoulders now invading the quiet street and shielding her from any harm.  Mrs. Rockwell pleaded for his help as they ran past, but a shot to the head stopped her before she could finish.  Little Timmy Neusbaum lay dead beside his lemonade stand with a tin of nickels and dimes spilling onto the pavement while red blossomed at his back.  In the center of the playground stood Betty, watching the carnage and screaming in horror but in no apparent danger as the soldiers marched past without sparing her a glance.</p><p><em>Nobody goes into the playground unless Betty says so,</em> Timmy had said.</p><p>“Do you realize what you’ve done?!” screamed the child with the voice of a man.  “You’ve ruined everything!  You’ve activated the fail safe!  They’re all dead… they’re all gone forever!  No one to play with me anymore… I’ll be all alone…”  The voice switched between high and low, between sweet and grating, sometimes getting stuck in the middle.  Braun stomped her feet.  Betty pulled the ribbons out of his hair.  “I’ll be stuck here all alone… all alone forever!”</p><p>“It’s what you deserve,” spat Leah from her seat on Charon’s arm.  She had no desire to jump down and face Braun at eye-level.  “You used all these people like toys… now you can’t hurt them anymore.”  She said that to herself as much as Braun, reminding herself that she had freed them from this hell.  They could move on, now.  Find peace in the afterlife.</p><p>Doc the dog barked and wagged his tail, jumping up to rest his paws on Charon’s hip and sniffing at Leah’s legs.  She reached down and let her hand settle on his head.</p><p>“Don’t worry, Dad,” she said softly, “we’re gonna be alright now.  As for you—” she looked back to Braun.  “My father came here looking for the G.E.C.K.”</p><p>“Well that’s too bad for you,” Betty spat.  “As you can see, we would have no need of one here.  I created the damn thing, but I didn’t want it.  Unstable terraforming technology used to change the world after a nuclear event—but why would I want to change the world when I could just create whatever world I wanted?”  He shrugged.  “I think one of the other vaults in the area got one, but I don’t know, and to be honest I don’t really care.  You’ll have to look somewhere else for information.”</p><p>She looked pitiful, a little girl in a purple dress with ribbons torn from her hair and tears streaking down her face, behind her a scene of abject destruction and bloodshed.  But there was still that same unidentifiable Wrongness in every expression.  Leah knew that, if he could, Braun would have plunged them into a Hell none of them could even conceive of.  On instinct she wrapped her arms around Charon’s neck and let herself be held close.</p><p>“Let us out, then.”</p><p>“You can leave whenever you want,” Betty spat, and behind her appeared a door.  It was simple, brown, and wooden like any door on Tranquility Lane.  “Just go.  Leave me to my misery.”</p><p>Without another word Charon turned and pushed the door open, running into the brilliant white nothingness on the other side with Doc following at his heels.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I thought up the idea of Charon entering the simulation while halfway through writing this chapter originally with how the quest normally plays out.  In truth him being there doesn't change much, but the concept of a him seeing himself as pre-ghoul again was too good to pass up.  Hope you guys agree!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. I'd Like to Greet You with a Smile</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>There's a certain kind of exhaustion you feel when finally getting something you've been working hard to achieve, like all of it catches up with you at once.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Your father is gone,” Amata had said to her on that day, the last day, the vault’s emergency alarm system providing startling background music and the glow of deep red lights fitting to the statement.  Because the door of Vault 101 had been sealed since the war; nobody ever entered and nobody ever left.  They were born in the vault and they died in the vault.  If her father was gone then it could only be because he was dead.  But he couldn’t be dead.  He <em>couldn’t.</em></p><p>But he was gone.  Not dead but <em>gone</em>, and Jonas was dead but <em>not</em> gone, a key player in whatever crazy and miraculous event had taken place while Leah slept.  Jonas was dead and she was next, being hunted down by Vault Security with minutes on the clock to save herself.</p><p>She took all the stimpacks she could carry and the teddy bear she’d had since she was born before Amata rushed her out the door in continuing panic.  Into her hand her friend pressed a pistol and ammunition, so much heavier than the BB gun she had left hidden beneath her bed.</p><p>“Just in case,” Amata said.  “It was my father’s.  Please, only use it if you really, <em>really</em> have to.  Now go— I’ll distract my father and his men.  You get to the door.”</p><p>Leah was good at hiding because she was good at not being looked for, at seemingly unimportant and blending into the background.  There was no such luck with the entire security force on the hunt.  But the radroach infestation served as a lovely distraction, the disgusting, mutated bugs attacking en mass anyone they came across and eating up the security guard’s bullets before they could even point their guns Leah’s way.</p><p>It was Butch who found her first, begging for her help to save his mother’s life.  He gave her his jacket in exchange for the bullets it took to kill the disgusting insects attacking her, and whatever Leah’s opinion may have been for her childhood bully was softened by the tears in his eyes and the way he threw his arms around his mother in relief.</p><p>Officer Gomez found her next, and let her go.  “You’re a good kid,” he said.  “You don’t deserve this.  Go, find your dad.  I’ll pretend I never saw you.”</p><p>Stanley and Andy were too busy toasting radroaches to notice or care as she ran past.</p><p>Beatrice’s body lay crumpled in the diner, a dreamy smile still on her face.  (Leah still had the poem she had given her for her tenth birthday.  It really made a lot more sense now that she was older.)</p><p>She found Tom and Mary Holden with their hands up as two officers approached, one with a baton and the other his pistol drawn.</p><p>“We were just going back to our quarters!” Mary insisted.  “Just like the Overseer is instructing!”</p><p>Leah knew Tom and Mary; they were a married couple only a  handful of years older than her.  They had always been kind to Leah and her father, even if they were a little reclusive.  </p><p>Their apartment was on the other side of the vault.</p><p>The guard holding the pistol steadied his aim.  “Alarm’s been in effect for twenty minutes; that’s more than enough time to get home.  How about you try telling us again what you’re doing here?  And make it a good answer; Overseer’s orders are shoot first and ask questions later, so you’re lucky we’re even giving you this chance.  We gotta find the brat, but any hint of insurgence is to be completely <em>squashed</em>.  Understood?”</p><p>The couple nodded, hands still raised.  They looked at each other, then back to the guards, mouthes flapping futilely for an excuse that wouldn’t come.  </p><p>Leah stepped out from her hiding place when the officer with the pistol started counting back from ten.</p><p>“Leave them alone!” she cried.  “It’s me you want!  Leave them alone, they didn’t do anything!”</p><p>A bullet whizzed by, inches from her neck.  She didn’t intend to empty four rounds into the officer’s face, but that’s what happened.  The protective material of the helmet shattered after two, and the rest connected.  Officer O’Brien, now only identifiable by his badge, fell dead to the floor.  Officer Richards followed in the same way when he ran towards Leah, baton raised.</p><p>She fled before Tom or Mary could scream.</p><p>She had grown up with those officers, seen them at events and patrolling the halls, and killed them.  Theirs were the first lives she had ended.  Red blood and gore splattered on the inside of police helmets and dripping down the front of Kevlar vests were to be her last memories of them.</p><p>She almost didn’t see Jonas’ body, pushed into a corner of the Overseer’s office, three gunshots through his chest.  Her father’s protégé who had always greeted her with a smile and a hug.  Jonas was one of the kindest people Leah knew, and the Overseer had struck him down in cold blood.  </p><p>Without thinking she grabbed the holotape sticking out of his pocket, but couldn’t stand to look into his glassy, expressionless eyes another moment.  She kept running.</p><p>Amata’s goodbye was the hardest part of it all.  Leah’s friend found her hiding by the Vault entrance, curled up and head in her knees, shaking from adrenaline and fear.</p><p>“Leah?”</p><p>The voice made her jump with a shriek, grabbing reactively for the pistol, but she dropped it when Amata came closer.  Her eye was dark and bruised, her lip swollen and puffy with a jagged cut across the bottom.</p><p>“Amata—!  Are you okay what HAPPENED?”</p><p>She waved the questions off.  “My father had Officer Mack try and get information out of me, but I swear I didn’t tell them anything.  We have to hurry, though, they’ll start looking here soon!”</p><p>“I don’t think I can do this.”</p><p>Letting her out of the hug she had been pulled into, Amata shrugged and approached the old control panel.  “I don’t really think there’s another choice.”</p><p>Alarms blared as the door <em>squeak</em>ed and <em>squeal</em>ed open, grating at Leah’s ears.  She took Amata’s hands.</p><p>“Come with me?” she begged.  “Please?”</p><p>But Amata shook her head.  “I’m the only one who can talk sense into my father.  I have to stay, for the good of the vault.”  Her hands squeezed Leah’s tighter.  “I’m sorry for all of this.  For Jonas, for what my father did… for everything.  If you catch up with your dad out there, tell him that, okay?”</p><p>When Leah ran through the heavy steel door reading 101, stumbled through the old wooden door at the entrance of the cve, and lost her footing on the hill immediately outside, it was all with a singular focus: her father.  The only person in her life she had always been able to rely on, her touchstone for right and wrong, her protector.  If she could find him then everything else would fall into place.  If she could find him then no matter what the world threw at her, she could handle it.</p><p>—</p><p>Her father took a while to exit his tranquility pod, his motor skills still jarred from being offline for so long.  His knees buckled when his feet hit the floor and Leah threw his arm across her shoulders to keep him up, ignoring the pins and needles it caused in her own sleepy legs.</p><p>“Dad?”</p><p>James rubbed his face with one hand.  “Leah…?”  He blinked and shook the effects of weeks-long slumber from his eyes.  Leah watched them adjust to the dim lighting of the room and slowly focus on her face.  “My God.  It really is you.  Sweetheart— Sweetheart what on <em>Earth</em> are you—“</p><p>The remainder of that question was blown to smithereens when the air was forced from his lungs by the force of Leah’s hug, and the two ex-vault dwellers collapsed to the floor on their shaky knees.  Relief and tears flooded Leah in unison and she sobbed against her father’s chest like the little girl she had just been, like the one she still felt like, like the time Wally Mack had told her that she was a weirdo and nobody in the whole vault liked her even a little bit.  Wet tracks cut through the layers of dust covering her face.  Her armor and vault suit were both streaked with blood and oil and God knows what else, but her father hugged her back just as tight and warm as he always had.</p><p>“You saved me,” he said, the rumble of his voice giving away that he was just as close to tears.  He kissed her head, then held her face just far enough away to look each other in the eyes.  “I thought I’d be trapped in there forever but you <em>saved</em> me.  You have no idea how good it is to see you, sweetheart, but… but I mean what are you <em>doing</em> here?  You’re supposed to be back home in the vault where it’s <em>safe</em>.  Didn’t Jonas give you my tape?”</p><p>Leah’s breath hitched and her cheeks flushed as she struggled through her next sentence.  “A-Amata say-says she’s… says she’s so-sorry…”</p><p>Again, she dissolved into incomprehensible crying, blubbering out her attempt at an explanation.  Certainly she was incoherent, but having seen her in worse states of incomprehensible crying over her life, James had long since become an expert at translating.</p><p>“I knew it was dangerous to involve Jonas,” he sighed, shaking his head.  “Poor Mrs. Palmer… lost her only grandson.  I can’t imagine what she’s going through.”  He ran a hand down Leah’s cheek, holding it there.  “And you, sweetheart.  To think that Almadovar would go so far, that he’d take his anger at me out on <em>you</em>…  I knew he was never my biggest fan or yours, but I thought at least he’d have the sense not to punish you for my indiscretions.  I’m so, so sorry you had to come out into this hellscape of a world, Leah.  It’s the last thing I ever wanted for you.”</p><p>Leah sniffled and shook her head.  “I would have left even if they didn’t chase me out,” she said, only realizing the truth of that statement as she said it.</p><p>“Leah-“</p><p>“I would have!” she cried.  “All my life everyone tells me that the wastes are terrifying and horrible and nobody could live out there, but then I wake up and Amata tells me that you’ve left the vault all by yourself?!  Dad, all I could think about was you dying up there!  This whole time chasing after you I thought I’d just end up finding your corpse!”</p><p>That was a thought she hadn’t let herself dwell on all this time, not when it was still a possibility.  Fear would have paralyzed her if she had entertained the idea that her father was dead, and she would have never gone past Megaton, living out the fantasy that one day he would wander through again and find her for as long as it couldn’t be proven impossible.  But with James alive and whole in front of her, she could finally admit to the thing that had made her stomach roll with anxiety at every waking hour.</p><p>The look on her father’s face was a complex one; sadness, embarrassment, disbelief, and pride all took their turns, then softened into understanding and the tone of his voice was so gentle that it nearly melded into the background hum of the machinery.  “I should have known.  You’re your mother’s daughter, after all.  Once you get an idea in your head there’s nothing on Heaven or Earth that can stop you.  Leaving you behind was never going to do any good.”</p><p>Leah hugged him again, because he was there and because she could.</p><p>“So much has happened since you’ve been gone,” she murmured once the tears had stopped.  “I don’t know where to start…”</p><p>“How long <em>has</em> it been?  I’m sure you noticed but time didn’t exactly work properly in that place; my internal clock hasn’t caught up— Goodness, that’s the date?!” he exclaimed when she showed him the screen of her pip-boy.  “I’ve been in there for weeks!  No wonder my joints are so stiff; thought it was just old age catching up with me.”</p><p>He laughed a little at his own joke, and Leah laughed too not because it was funny but because it was him.  It was really, finally <em>him</em>.  All that traveling and searching around the wastes had finally paid off.  Everything would be alright now.</p><p>—</p><p>Leah was almost surprised by how well Charon and her father got along.  Only minutes after meeting her companion was making snide comments about her lack of survival skills and tendency to stick her nose in other people’s business.  While Leah blushed, James only laughed.</p><p>“I suppose some things don’t change.  She’s lucky to have you, then, keeping her safe.”</p><p>He didn’t make a comment about Charon being a ghoul, and Charon didn’t make a comment about his contract, things for which Leah was exceptionally grateful.  Once they were all steadier on their feet they made their collective way back up and out of Vault 112.  None were unhappy to leave the place behind for good.</p><p>“Well if you listened to all my tapes, then you must know about Project Purity,” said James as they walked.  “I don’t know what else you have going on out here, but would it be too much of me to assume you’d like to come back to the purifier with me?  I may not have gotten the G.E.C.K. but you heard Braun; one of the other vaults around here <em>did</em>, and if we can find it then I’ll finally have the missing piece of the puzzle.”  The way he smiled at her was both happy and sad, like how he smiled when he talked about her mother.  His eyes twinkled with love and affection and shone bright with determined passion.  “You and me… we can finish Project Purity for your mother.  We can realize her dream together, like she would have wanted.”</p><p>Leah looked at her father’s worn face, the bruises and cuts that the tranquility pod’s stasis had not let heal, the way he was favoring his left leg while he walked.</p><p>“First,” she said, “you need to rest.”</p><p>“What?  Honey, I’m—“</p><p>“Limping, and you look exhausted.”</p><p>“Everything will heal on its own, given time.  Besides, Project Purity has been waiting for me for nineteen years, and—“</p><p>“And it can wait a few more days for you to get back,” she assured.  “C’mon, Dad; you always told Jonas that the doctor who treats himself has an idiot for a patient, right?”</p><p>“Well, yes, but—“</p><p>“So don’t be that person.”  She leaned against him.  “C’mon.  We can go back to my place in Megaton and rest, just for a couple of days.  You can get your leg checked out and we can both get some decent food in us.  And <em>then</em>,” she smiled, “we can go back to the purifier.”</p><p>“Best to go along and do what she says,” Charon advised from ahead.  “I’m sure you know how stubborn she can be.”</p><p>“That I certainly do,” James laughed.  “Alright, then; to Megaton it is.  Though, what do you mean when you say your “place” there?”</p><p>“Oh,” Leah smiled her wide, big-toothed smile.  “I have a house.”</p><p>Camp for the night was set up in a small shack they found as the sun began to fall below the western horizon, shrouding them in darkness.  It was small but perfectly abandoned and contained two mattresses that were suitably comfortable once shaken free of dirt and small rocks.  Cans of beans were cooked over a small fire and Leah fell into another bout of happy crying as exhaustion pulled relief back through her system.  Once upon a time she would have been embarrassed to sob so much in front of Charon, but now couldn’t find it in herself to care.</p><p>Charon volunteered for first watch, sitting against the shack’s empty door frame and illuminated by the bright light of the full moon.  Above the ridge of the hilly horizon Leah could just spy the many stars peeking out of the black, blue, and purple sky.</p><p>“Your mother loved the stars,” said her father when he caught her staring.  “We used to go onto the top of the highest hill we could find, or climb onto a building failing that, and just look at them for hours.  I suppose that’s one thing the present has over the past; before the war there was so much light pollution coming from cities that you could hardly see anything unless you went out into the wilderness.  Now in most places we can just look up and a whole part of the galaxy is on display.”</p><p>“Is that true?” she asked Charon’s silhouette.</p><p>The figure in the door nodded once.  “Yeah.  Could hardly see any of’m in most places.  Guess it’s better now if you don’t mind all the radiation.”</p><p>Wind stirred up the dust and earth and plattered it against the side of the shack, small amounts blowing in through a crack between two boards.  Leah pulled her sleeping bag up higher on the mattress and scooted over to its edge, closer to James.</p><p>“Can we talk about Mom more?” she asked confidentially.  It was a question she had asked a handful of times growing up, desperate for more of a connection than the anecdotes and couple of stories her father could manage.  It made sense now, of course, why he had so little to say, so few stories to tell, but that hunger was still there.  “You don’t need to keep anything from me now, no more secrets.”</p><p>The look of melancholy happiness reappeared, slotting itself comfortably back onto her father’s face.  She swore that every time he thought about her mother she could see his heart breaking again.  More than once had she found him sitting alone in their apartment’s living room late at night, crying from the weight of grief and loss on his back and no amount of hugs or kisses from her could fix it.</p><p>He heaved a great sigh and said, “…Yes.  I have stories about her, things I could never tell you nefore.  It’ll do me good to finally talk about them again, I think.”  A yawn so strong his jaw nearly popped interrupted his thoughts.  “But… mm but not tonight, sweetheart.  We need to sleep.”</p><p>“Just one story?”</p><p>Her father smiled, sleepy and indulgent, but shook his head.  “No, not just one story.  It’s time for bed; we still have a lot of walking ahead of us tomorrow.”</p><p>Leah didn’t want to sleep, a deep anxiety burrowed within her that her father would again be gone when she woke up, nothing left but footprints in the dust.  But the aching in her muscles and bones was beholden to the warmth of her sleeping bag and the comfort of the worn, lumpy mattress beneath her.  She grumbled when her father wished her goodnight and her eyelids quickly grew heavy, comforted to sleep by his breathing beside her.</p><p>Charon woke her halfway through the night, just like always.  Still rubbing the sleep from her eyes Leah switched positions with him, sitting in the building’s empty doorway with her chin propped up on the butt of her shotgun and the barrel in the dirt.  The ghoul unrolled his own sleeping bag over the mattress and began to settle in while James snored lightly in the background.</p><p>“Charon?” Leah asked, not turning her face from the sky.  The moon had moved in the hours she had been asleep, so high in the sky that nothing cast a shadow.  The eeriest part of the night, by her definition.</p><p>Her companion’s voice came through the darkness of the hut.  “Yes?”</p><p>Orders left a foul taste in her mouth, especially when given someone who couldn’t disobey.  So true was this that what she said next came out more as a request, a quiet plea.  “…Protect him,” she said.  “Protect my father, just like you protect me.  Okay?”</p><p>“I cannot do that.”</p><p>Leah’s head swiveled around fast enough to strain her neck, but Charon continued before she could ask for an explanation.</p><p>“You are the holder of my contract,” he said.  “Your life will always be my priority.  If it was between protecting you and protecting him, I would choose you no matter what you ordered.”  He sat atop the mattress, sleeping bag unzipped and unoccupied.  “If you wish, you may give my contract to him, so that he would have my loyalty instead.”</p><p>“No.”  He couldn’t know about the contract; Leah would sooner die than tell her father its terms.  It would kill him.  Or it would disappoint him, and that would kill her.</p><p>“Then you will remain my priority.”</p><p>Something large and strong howled in the distance, but Leah did not lift her gun from the ground.  The wind kicked up more dust and she closed her eyes against it.</p><p>“Protect him the best you can, then,” she eventually decided.  “If he can’t be more important than I am, make him as close to equal as you can; I’m the only thing that comes above him, nothing else.”</p><p>Charon was barely a shadow in the darkness, but she caught the faintest hint of his nod.  “Very well.”</p><p>Despite her exhaustion, Leah had no trouble staying awake that night for watch.  Every time she closed her eyes the bodies of Timmy Neusbaum, Roger Rockwell, Mrs. Dithers, and all the other residents of Tranquility Lane flashed before them.  Sometimes it was just Betty’s face stretched into a grin, so close they would have been nose-to-nose.</p><p>—</p><p>He didn’t believe the house was hers, at first.  Leah offered to take her to Sheriff Simms’ house to see the deed he had made her sign, but Wadsworth addressed her as ‘ma’am’ seemed to do.</p><p>Armor and weapons and bags were dropped by the door for the Mr. Handy to collect and put away, and although she was acutely aware of every aching muscle in her body Leah did not obey her instincts and fall onto the couch to sleep.  Instead she took her father’s hand and tugged.</p><p>“Over there’s the kitchen,” she said as they stumbled through the living area and towards the stairs.  “My room’s the one up here on the left, but you can have my bed ‘cause I don’t think Charon’s gonna be able to fit on the couch.  We should eat something— Jenny Stahl down at the Brass Lantern makes <em>really</em> good brahmin steak.  Or Wadsworth can  make it if you wanna stay in.  That shelf over there has all my books and they’re all mostly intact.  Oh, I should take you to Craterside!  Moira’s gonna be so excited to meet you!  Moira’s excited about most things.  Then there’s this guy named Billy—“</p><p>James’ laugh filled the room, reverberated around the house.  He pulled his daughter into a hug and ruffled her hair.  “One thing at a time, sweetheart,” he said.  “One thing at a time.  We’ve only just got here; you can wait another day to show me around, can’t you?  I’m not going anywhere.”</p><p>—</p><p>At seven years old, Amata had convinced her father to let Leah sleep over at their apartment for the first time.  They were both so excited, giggling and whispering secrets while braiding each other’s hair with clumsy fingers.  The Overseer let them share a bowl of popcorn and stay up an entire fifteen minutes past the curfew for everyone under ten.  Then they crawled into Amata’s bed while her father turned off the lights, and they tried to sleep.</p><p>Leah tried to be good.  She tried to be quiet, to listen to the heaviness of her eyelids and make herself pass out beneath her friend’s dark green comforter, knowing she was safe there until morning came.</p><p>But… something wasn’t right.  A lot of somethings.</p><p>The creaks and groans of this apartment weren't the ones she was used to.  That wasn’t the way water was supposed to sound going through the pipes, and the air filtration wasn’t supposed to make that much of a rattling in the vents.  She hadn’t noticed it while they were playing but Amata’s room smelled weird— why did a bedroom smell weird?  Leah’s room didn’t have a smell at all.  But here the foreign scent invaded her mind even when she pressed Teddy hard against her nose.</p><p>And the bed wasn’t comfy like she had first thought it was; the sheets were too slippery and cold no matter what she did, and even curled up on her side like she always did to sleep the mattress felt lumpy and hard.  How had Amata already fallen asleep when there were so many things wrong with her bed?</p><p>Leah tried to count sheep, but it was hard when the only ones she had ever seen in picture books.  People a long time ago who saw sheep all the time probably had a much easier time pretending to count them.  She tried to count radroaches, but that wasn’t very relaxing.</p><p>Her throat was dry.</p><p>Music drifted under the door along with the light from the living room where Amata’s father still sat awake.  She’d have to pass him to get to the kitchen and get a drink.  She’d be bothering him if she went out there now; he’d sigh and shake his head like he always did, and maybe not ltt her sleep over again because she hadn’t done what she was told and gone to sleep.  At least Amata was asleep.  At least Amata wouldn’t get in trouble for her.</p><p>Maybe she didn’t need to sleep!  Maybe she could just lay there all night and be quiet.  Then morning would come and she could go back home after breakfast and pretend everything was fine.</p><p>Oh, but she’d have to eat breakfast with them first, because that was polite.  What if the Overseer made eggs?  Leah didn’t like eggs; they were rubbery, and smelled weird.  What if he made the link sausages?  Those were gross, too, all wrapped up in… whatever it was that got caught in her throat and made her choke.  Oatmeal was too lumpy.  French toast was too squishy.  If she didn’t eat, or if she only ate part of it, the Overseer would be mad because she was so rude, but she couldn’t eat those things.  She just couldn’t.</p><p>Her stomach growled.  She’d only eaten a little bit of dinner; at least the popcorn had been familiar.</p><p>Leah felt the familiar and terrifying twisting of her stomach, and the hot, sour pressure in the back of her throat.  Whether it was the tears that caused the nausea, or the nausea that caused the tears she didn’t know, but they went together all the same, and had for as long as she could remember.</p><p>“I have to go to the bathroom,” she whispered to the sleeping Amata as she slid off the bed.</p><p>The Overseer stopped her halfway there.</p><p>“What are you doing up, young lady?”</p><p>Leah froze, hunching and pulling her arms in to look him in the eye.  “I… I have to go to the bathroom,” she repeated softly.  At least if she threw up in the bathroom there would be no evidence; she could flush it away and clean herself up.  No one would be any the wiser.</p><p>He stared at her a moment longer before sighing, “Well, go on, then.”</p><p>Even the bathroom smelled different.</p><p>With the sleeves of her nightgown pressed to her face to keep the smells at bay, Leah curled up beside the toilet and pressed her back against the cool metal wall.  The chill seeped through the back of her pajamas and up through her feet, but the sharp sensation of it cut through the haze of nausea and let her—if only momentarily—clear her mind.</p><p>But she couldn’t stay in the bathroom forever, hiding herself and her worries and her illness.  The Overseer would come knocking if she didn’t leave soon, asking what was taking her so long and demanding she return to bed.  She was supposed to be asleep half an hour ago, after all.  And what if he found out she was sick and thought she gave it to Amata?</p><p>What if she <em>did</em> give it to Amata?</p><p>Leah choked on a sob, her face pushed into her arm to muffle it but the sound still rang around off the metal walls.  Her ribs ached as she held her breath, trying with every muscle in her little body to keep the noises in but they just kept coming whether she liked it or not.</p><p>Amata’s father hadn’t tucked her into bed.  He hadn’t given her a hug and a kiss on the forehead and told her he would see her in the morning.</p><p>Her friend came in minutes later, rushing to Leah’s side while her father watched from just beyond the doorway.</p><p>“I-I-I don’t fe-eel good,” she sobbed, revealing the terrible mortifying truth without pulling her face from her sleeve.  “Wanna g-go ho-ome…”</p><p>Amata hugged her tighter.  The Overseer grumbled at them to stay put, and the distant <em>whoosh</em> of the front door announced his departure.  Briefly, Leah was left alone when her friend ran out of the room, but she returned seconds later with a large, cool glass of water.</p><p>“Kitchen water always tastes better,” she said, sitting back down beside her and holding it out.  “Don’t worry; Daddy’ll be back soon with your dad.  It’s gonna be okay.”</p><p>Kitchen water <em>did</em> taste better than bathroom water, even if it still aggravated the nausea in her throat.  </p><p>“I’m sorry if Daddy made you scared,” her friend said quietly, secretly.  “I told him to be nice.  I think he tried…”</p><p>Only when she was safe in her father’s arms did Leah’s sickness begin to fade, just like it always did when he was around.</p><p>He picked her up and hugged her close, shushing her sobs and promising that it was alright, he wasn’t angry as she apologized again and again for making him come get her.  They just had to get her things and they could go, no harm done.</p><p>The Overseer had already packed what belongings she had brought back into her small bag.  Amata handed her Teddy when she reached out for him.</p><p>“Apologies for any trouble,” her father said earnestly.  “I know it’s past Amata’s bedtime.”</p><p>“It’s fine,” was Mr. Almadovar’s curt reply.</p><p>“Feel better, Leah!”</p><p>Daring a peak, Leah saw Amata waving as she was carried away, and the Overseer watching with his usual scowl.</p><p>She hid her face back into her father’s neck.</p><p>“Of course I’m not mad at you, sweetheart,” he promised again as he tucked her safely back into her own bed, tears dried and fought off with cuddles and a favorite bedtime story.  Maybe she was too old for the old picture book but there was comfort in its familiarity and bright, happy illustrations.  “In fact, I’m very proud of you; even though it was scary you still tried something new, and just because it didn’t work this time doesn’t mean it won’t some day.”</p><p>He kissed her forehead.</p><p>“You aren’t ready to sleep away from home yet— that’s alright.  We can try again later.  For now, though, it’s very much past curfew, and you need to rest.”</p><p>Another kiss, then James went over to the door and paused before flipping off the lights.</p><p>“I love you.  I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said.</p><p>Leah nodded, and even smiled a little bit.  “See you tomorrow.”</p><p>—</p><p>That first night back home brought more memories of blood and death. Half delirious from sleep and lack thereof, Leah trundled upstairs and set up her own spot beside her father’s bed.  Two cushions from the couch and a blanket were enough for her, and she fell into a restful slumber that was uninterrupted by dreams or nightmares.  The bodies of Officers O’Brien and Richards, limp and splattered in their own gore, could not bother her any more that night.</p><p>Only in the morning, rising as usual before his daughter, did James notice her curled-up form half beneath the bed frame, having just avoided stepping on her.</p><p>—</p><p>“Well it’s definitely not broken, but I’m sure you already knew that since you’re still walking on it,” said Doc Church after examining James’ leg.</p><p>“Ah, yes, that much I determined.  Really, I suspect a mild sprain; I only came here at my daughter’s insistence.”</p><p>Leah stuck out her tongue.  “The only reason you wouldn’t have had me come here if it was <em>my</em> leg that was hurting is because you would have looked at it yourself.”</p><p>“Well your suspicions were correct; both your ankle and knee are sprained.  The best treatment would be a brace and some stimpaks but I don’t have a brace so the stimpaks will have to do.  Try to keep off it as much as you can and come see me in a week to let me know how it’s feeling.  Maybe while you’re recuperating your daughter can tell her about how she had to be carried around town by her ghoul friend for two weeks because she broke her leg getting into a fight with a centaur.”</p><p>If she had ever seen her father’s eyes that wide Leah could not remember the occasion.  She sank a little against the wall with a sheepish laugh.</p><p>“Heh… in my defense… it snuck up on me.”</p><p>—</p><p> James mentioned over a breakfast of stale pre-war cereal and brahmin milk that, “You know, sweetie, we aren’t in the vault anymore.  You don’t have to wear that jumpsuit every day,” and it gave Leah pause.  She honestly hadn’t thought much about her jumpsuit or how much she wore it; it was comfortable and evidently quite durable.  Wadsworth’s mending job to her pant leg was perfect and despite having lost a not insignificant amount of fat in certain places and gained an equal amount of muscle, it still fit relatively well.  Plus the stains of blood and God-knows-what-else were proving easy enough to get out with a bit of scrubbing.</p><p>“I like it,” she shrugged.</p><p>Charon offered his two cents from his place leaning against the wall.  (Leah was surprised by how well he was adjusting to her father being around, not that she thought it would be much of a challenge after having been under the employ of so many different people, but once or twice she had even caught snippets of the two of them engaged in actual <em>conversation</em>.  For fear that Charon would clam up like a terrified mirelurk, she hadn’t mentioned this to either of them.)  “The color makes you stand out, makes you an easier target.”</p><p>It was certainly true that blue didn’t blend into the scenery like Charon’s own brown and grey attire did, or like the attire most wasteland dwellers Leah had met.  But she kind of liked that about it; all the other clothes were so… boring.</p><p>But there was a point or six to be made about the value of camouflage.  </p><p>“Maybe I’ll get some new clothes next time I go to Craterside.”</p><p>A knock sounded at the door, but before Wadsworth could float over and answer it Moira herself threw herself through and rushed up to the small dining table without a pause to say hello.</p><p>“Turn on the radio!” she exclaimed.  “Three Dog’s talking about you, Leah!”</p><p>    “Again?” she squeaked, but Moira wasn’t listening, already fidgeting with the living room’s radio to bring it to life while Wadsworth heaved a mechanical sigh and moved to close the door from her entrance.</p><p>Before he could do that, Nova slipped in.</p><p>“Moira, you gotta close people’s doors when you use’m,” she sighed, then nodded a polite hello to the house’s actal residents and moved out of Wadsworth’s way to let him do his job.</p><p>“—nts say that she stayed for weeks,” Three Dog’s voice crackled over the radio as Moira turned the volume dial,</p><p>“offering guidance and much-needed weapons training and turning the once helpless settlement into a band of combat-ready individuals.  Red, the town’s doctor, admitted that they may not all be comfortable using their guns, but they’ll sure use them if they have to, and it sure is a hell of a lot better than standing by watching your friends get dragged off to who knows where.”</p><p>From the side Charon grumbled, “Combat ready my ass…”</p><p>“Sources report that the residents of Big Town all appear to be in high spirits thanks to Little Miss Vault 101, the DJ continued.  “If you’re hearin’ this, kid, then pat yourself on the back from me.  Capital Wastes could use more people like you.  And to my other listeners, look out for the girl in the blue jumpsuit with a big yellow one-oh-one stitched on the back, and don’t be afraid to ask her for help.  You’ll be in good hands if you do.”</p><p>“What an incredible story!” Moira clapped, rushing back over to shake Leah by the shoulders.  “First you save them from slavers and mutants, then you help them defend themselves!  What wonderful things to do!  You have to tell me everything!”</p><p>“How did he learn all of that?” Leah asked, sinking into herself as her face reddened.</p><p>“Three Dog’s got eyes and ears all over DC,” Nova shrugged.  “Any time something big happens it always gets back to him.  While ago he talked about how you saved Simms’ life.”</p><p>She made a pained noise and curled up further in her chair, but looked up when her father said, “Well, you certainly sound like you’ve been busy.  Now, I’ve heard the story about the Sheriff, but what’s this about Big Town?”</p><p>Moira went off before Leah could assure him that it really wasn’t a big deal.  She didn’t even pause for breath until asking to be filled in on the bit she had missed while running over from Craterside.</p><p>“It’s really not that big of a deal— Three Dog’s exaggerating,” she tried to say, but Moira was having none of it.</p><p>“Don’t be so modest!  You did a great thing helping those people, you should be proud!”</p><p>“Most people wouldnt’a done what you did,” Nova agreed.  “Wasteland’s a bitch; people see slavers and just look the other way and hope they aren’t the next victim.”</p><p>“I couldn’t do that,” Leah whimpered.  A hand laid itself heavy and comforting on her shoulder.</p><p>“Of course you couldn’t,” her father said.  “Ever since you were little you’ve always rushed to help people in need.  Even now, when it could get you hurt…”  He swallowed, and Leah looked at him above her glasses to avoid the intensity of direct eye contact.  “What you did is truly incredible.  I want you to know that.”  He smiled.  “Make no mistake, I don’t like the idea of you putting yourself in so much danger, but I suppose I can’t really be mad when you’re being called a hero.”</p><p>Moira slid herself into the last open chair, having pulled from one of the enumerable pockets on her jumpsuit a stub of a pencil and a pad of paper.</p><p>“Tell me ALL about the supermutant camp,” she demanded, and Leah wasn’t oblivious to how her father turned slightly pale at the addition of, “I don’t think I know anyone who’s ever gone into one and lived!  This is sure to be a big help for the book!”</p><p>“Well… so there were these two guarding the gate, and we had to distract them…”</p><p>—</p><p>“Dad… are you still awake?”</p><p>Her father’s voice from the darkness was drowsy, but she knew it from his tone of being woken prematurely.  “Mm… what is it, sweetie?”</p><p>“…Can you tell me a story about Mom now?”</p><p>Seconds ticked by on each of their pip-boys in unison until he sighed and rolled to look at her over the side of the bed.  “Suppose I’ve kept them to myself long enough, haven’t I?  Alright.  What kind of story do you want to hear?”</p><p>“A happy one.”</p><p>“Haha, a happy one, alright.  Let’s see…”  He closed his eyes.  “We met when we were young… both of us nineteen, I want to say, maybe twenty.  Both of us lived up in a place called the Commonwealth that’s a while North of DC.”</p><p>Leah couldn’t imagine her father at nineteen.  The idea that he had been a teenager once, been a <em>child</em> once, was too ridiculous to entertain.</p><p>“She was always stubborn, but more than that she was driven.  If Catherine wanted something then Catherine was going to get it, whatever it took.  And, after a little while of knowing each other, for some reason she decided that what she wanted was me.”</p><p>“Is falling in love like it is in books?” she asked.  “All… butterflies and nerves and your palms getting sweaty when you’re nervous?”</p><p>James laughed.  “Some of it, yes.  But it can feel a lot of different ways, it doesn’t all need to be grand gestures and declarations of love.  It can be quiet and unassuming and comfortable, just sitting together and working in a comfortable quiet.  I’m rather sure I loved your mother for a very long time before I truly realized it.  Haha, she always was the one to point out things to me that were staring me in the face.”</p><p>Leah nodded; she liked that idea of love better.  The ones she read about seemed too nerve wracking, full of too much anxiety and trial and error.  Before the bombs fell, people met and went on dates with complete strangers hoping to fall in love, getting pulled around on romantic outings and being proposed to with grand gestures.  What her dad described with her mother sounded much more comfortable.</p><p>“She was the one who suggested we move down here to DC; the Commonwealth is a bit better off, and she thought two people with medical training could be of more use somewhere like this.  And she was right; people needed doctors almost everywhere we went.”</p><p>“When did she come up with Project Purity?” Leah asked.</p><p>There was a hesitant pause before he answered.  “It isn’t a pretty story.”</p><p>“I can handle it.”</p><p>“We were treating a woman who lived in the settlement we were staying in at the time.  All things considered she was very healthy, but the town had no way to purify the water they got from the river, and people had to rely on heavy doses of Rad-Away.”  The bed creaked as he shifted, rubbing his eyes and shaking his head.  “Four months along she went into labor.  The baby was stillborn.  Not only that, but it was deformed beyond recognition.  Apparently until your mother and I came to town there wasn’t a reliable source of Rad-Away; she’d been experiencing low to moderate radiation poisoning for the first two months of the baby’s development.  It never had a chance.”</p><p>Leah jumped when indistinct shouting and laughter drifted in from some other part of town, cutting through the thick, dramatic quiet.  Leah shot the wall through which the sound had traveled a dirty look to silence it and let her father continue his story.</p><p>“I don’t think I ever saw your mother more upset than on that day,” he said.  “It took a long time to eventually get everything going, to find a location, others willing to help… but that was the day your mother first broached the idea of purifying all the water in DC, giving everyone something safe and clean to drink.  It became her dream.  <em>Our</em> dream.”</p><p>James sighed again, pulling a blanket up higher over his torso.  “But that’s enough for tonight.  It’s time to sleep.”</p><p>She wanted to ask for more, but her father’s voice held the familiar tone of finality that she knew was futile to challenge.  It was late, he was tired, time for bed, end of discussion.</p><p>“We’re gonna get it working,” she yawned, curling back up onto her side.  “For Mom.  We’ll get the purifier working for her, Dad, I promise.  You’n me.”</p><p>His hand reached down and ruffled her hair.  “I know we will.  Goodnight, sweetie.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks to everyone who's been sticking with me and with this story!  For anyone binge reading it right now, this is a good point to take a break!  Get some food or water, go do that thing you've been meaning to do, or get to bed!  Take care of yourself!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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